The tires exploded with a deafening crack.
Nathan slammed on the brakes. The car skidded, screeched—and stopped. Smoke curled from the ruined rubber.
Four masked men emerged from the shadows. Two had guns, the kind that didn't wait for answers. One held a rusted Okapi knife with a jagged edge that told stories of past kills. The last one twirled a smaller blade with a smirk in his eyes.
Nathan froze in place. His phone was in the cabin, inches away. He could make it—he had to try. Just as he leaned down to grab it, a gunshot shattered the air. The bullet missed his skull by a breath.
"Vicky?" Nathan whispered, more to himself than anyone else. His hands lifted slowly.
The men closed in.
"Drop every weapon," one ordered, voice thick with venom.
Emily's call lit up the phone screen again. Her name flashed brightly. She was worried. So was he. Something was wrong—he felt it.
One of the men grabbed the phone and stared at it, amused.
"You're worried about your wife," he said, cocking his head, "when you're about to meet your parents?"
Nathan swallowed hard. "What do you want?"
"We already got it," said the man. "Nate."
Nathan blinked. How do they know my name?
"Who are you?" he demanded.
The leader stepped forward and slowly removed his mask.
But Nathan's memory offered no clues.
"Even looking at me… you still don't know," the man mocked. The circle tightened around him.
"Seems like we got ourselves a feast tonight," another added. They all laughed—the kind of laugh that made your spine curl.
Emily kept calling.
Nathan's heart pounded—not for himself, but for Vicky. Something told him she was in danger.
Meanwhile, in Evan's room, the boy frantically tapped on his AID badge.
"Abort! Guys, we have to abort the mission. My sister's breaking down mentally. She might not come back from this! Guys? Hello?" No response. Just silence.
Downstairs, Vicky heard a knock. She went to check.
And screamed.
Evan rushed out—but Vicky was gone.
"Where's Vicky?!" Emily asked, panicked.
Evan, on the verge of collapse, pulled her into a tearful hug. "They took her…"
Back at the ambush, Nathan tried bargaining.
"Take my car. My wallet's in the dash. Whatever you need—just take it. But let me go. Someone needs me. Please."
The leader grinned. "Oh, but you're what we need. That's all."
He knelt beside Nathan. "We decide your fate tonight."
"Excuse me?" Nathan's voice cracked.
"Gun?" he asked casually. "Quick. Painless. Just one bang. Or knife? We slit your throat... let you feel every second as life leaves. Panga? That's my favorite. It's slow. Intimate. Very effective."
Nathan's breath hitched. His mind scrambled for options.
Emily, terrified, dove under the blanket. She kept calling Nathan's phone, fingers trembling. Evan grabbed his coat and stormed out, convinced the AID agents had taken Vicky.
"Agh, your wife's so annoying!" growled one of the thugs, pacing.
"Wait," said another, eyes narrowing. "What if Karen and Ndeshi got her? Maybe she's calling for help."
"Could be," the third muttered.
Nathan heard everything. Karen? Ndeshi? What do they have to do with Vicky?
"Who the hell are Karen and Ndeshi?" Nathan demanded. "What are they doing to Vicky?!"
"Pin him!" the leader barked.
They forced Nathan against the car. He struggled—kicked, elbowed—but they were trained. They overpowered him.
Then… the leader grabbed Nathan's wrist.
His hand brushed the bracelet—against Vicky's earing.
And the embedded earring clicked.
A sudden snap!—then a pulse of light. A fine mist sprayed out and hit the leader in the face. He collapsed instantly.
The weaponized earring. Vicky's design.
Paralysis.
The leader's limp hand clutched the gun—and it discharged as he fell.
One of the thugs dropped dead.
The other two shouted in panic, turning on Nathan.
Adrenaline surged. Rage flared.
Nathan fought like a man possessed. Duck. Punch. Grab. Twist.
He turned their weight against them.
One swing landed. Another. The earring sprayed again—another thug collapsed, body seizing.
The last man tried to run, but Nathan slammed him to the ground.
Silence fell.
Four men. Neutralized.
Nathan stood there, panting, blood on his shirt, the smell of gunpowder and fear thick in the air.
He stared at the bracelet, now glowing faintly.
"Vicky…" he whispered.
Wherever she was, he had to get to her.