It had been forty-eight hours since Sera and Amara vanished.
Damien hadn’t left the estate since he got back. He’d barely eaten, barely slept. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw clenched with fury and fear. Each passing hour without news dug deeper into his composure, chipping away at the steel core that held him together.
Luke stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed, silent but watchful. He knew better than to interrupt Damien’s thoughts. The control room, which once hummed with quiet efficiency, now buzzed with activity—his best tech experts rerunning footage, his men on phones and encrypted channels, barking orders, begging for leads. Still, nothing. No trace. No demands. Just silence.
“She’s just a little girl,” Damien muttered under his breath, gripping the edge of the table. “An
