Little Angel

Chapter:47

Gabriel Armstrong
.
.
.
.
The broken glass crunched beneath my shoes, a symphony of shattered dreams. My once immaculate office, a haven of power and control, was now a battlefield of chaos. Papers were strewn across the floor; a desk drawer hung open, its contents scattered like confetti. I ran a hand through my hair, pulling at the roots, and the familiar sting of panic tightened in my chest.

The only thing that remained unbroken is a picture of Vivian, Daisy, and Hannah, all three of them with their infectious grins, and behind them, rome steps are hanging crookedly on the wall. The sight of it makes my chest tighten, a physical embodiment of the panic that's been gnawing at me since the phone call that they didn't find them.

The air is thick with the scent of stale coffee and the lingering fear that claws at my throat. My phone vibrates on the desk, a constant reminder of the silence that’s been echoing in my life for the past two days. It’s a message from one of my men, another dead end.

Two nights. Forty-eight hours. Two nights without hearing my daughter’s mischievous laugh or feeling Vivian’s warm body nestled against mine. Two nights without my family. And the silence is deafening.

Two nights. Two nights without Vivian's laughter, the soft hum of her voice as she reads Daisy bedtime stories, the gentle touch of her hand in mine. Two nights without my daughter's mischievous laugh, her tiny fingers playing with my suit lepel, her little legs kicking with joy as I swing her in the air. It's been too long.

Two nights. Forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours without Vivian, my beautiful, vibrant fiancée.

I can't breathe. The world is a blurry mess of anger and fear. The fear is a cold serpent that wraps around my heart, squeezing the life out of it. The anger is a raging inferno that burns in my veins, threatening to consume me.

I wasn’t a man of sentimentality, not anymore. The life I lived demanded a cold, calculating mind and a heart hardened against the world’s brutality. But the absence of their laughter and their smiles had cracked the armor I’d forged. The silence in my mansion, usually filled with the clatter of Daisy’s toys and Vivian’s gentle humming, was unbearable.

The signals from Vivian's locked are jammed; he is using a signal jammer; we had lost the signals. We are trying to find them using other ways, and the only option is the cameras. They are still active on the road, and my men are asking questions in the underworld. Every small or big gang is searching for him on my order, but he is good at hiding. Years of practice made it almost impossible to locate him.

Marko. The name echoes in the emptiness of my mind, a venomous snake slithering through my thoughts.

I knew it was a mistake, letting him think he could get away with it, that he could challenge me. I underestimated him; let my arrogance blind me to the simmering resentment beneath his cool exterior.

I talked with Melody, and I freaking lost it when I heard the doctor who was treating her was also on it. He drug her and took Daisy away from the hospital. I fucking kill him when I meet him.

The thought of Marko, the fucking bastard I had crossed paths with, the one who had dared to touch my family, sends a wave of nausea through me. The realization that he had managed to take them, my everything, while I was busy dealing with the petty squabbles of rival gangs, stings like a slap.

My fingers tighten around the phone, my knuckles turning white. I call Vald. His gruff voice is a welcome relief in the suffocating silence.

"Gabriel," he says, his voice laced with concern. "Anything?"

"No," I growl, my voice raspy with barely contained rage. "Nothing. The cops are useless. We're no closer to finding them."

"We'll find them, Gabriel." Archer assured me. They both are together in the warehouse, and I assume that the call is on the speaker. "Just give us time."