Chapter 2 - The Man Inside the House
Police sirens would have destroyed everything.
Julian knew it.
Dante knew it.
And after Isabella’s warning about the wire stretched across the warehouse stairs, Camille knew it too.
Instead of rushing inside, they waited behind the warehouse while one of Julian’s men called a bomb technician who had previously worked military explosives.
Camille remained beside the broken window.
“Isabella, keep talking to me.”
“I’m tired.”
“I know.”
“Is Violet there?”
Camille looked inside.
The enormous cat had curled herself against Isabella’s leg.
“Yes.”
A weak laugh floated from the darkness.
“She found you.”
“She actually found all of us.”
Julian sat on the freezing pavement beside Camille.
For a man whose name could supposedly close restaurants, end contracts, and terrify politicians, he looked helpless.
Camille recognized helplessness.
Every veterinarian did.
Owners became equals in rooms where creatures they loved were hurting.
Power became irrelevant.
Money became irrelevant.
Only fear remained.
“How did Violet get out?” Camille asked.
“I pushed her through a vent.”
“When?”
“Three nights ago.”
Julian closed his eyes.
Three nights.
The exact moment Violet’s behavior had changed.
Isabella explained slowly.
She had been leaving Julian’s home after dinner when someone she trusted asked her to examine documents in an unused warehouse belonging to one of the Moretti companies.
She remembered getting into a car.
She remembered smelling something strange.
Then waking inside the basement.
“Who?”
Julian asked the question quietly.
Isabella hesitated.
“I didn’t see his face.”
“You said someone from the house.”
“He knew things.”
“What things?”
“The alarm code. Dante’s shift rotation. Your private garage entrance.”
Dante swore under his breath.
Julian looked at him.
“How many people know all three?”
“Seven.”
“Names.”
“Later.”
Camille glanced at Julian.
“No.”
He turned.
“No?”
“Don’t do this beside her.”
“Do what?”
“Start planning revenge while your sister is freezing underneath us.”
His stare sharpened.
Dante pretended to examine the alley.
Camille continued.
“You want to help her? Keep her talking.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
Then he faced the window.
“Bella.”
“Yes?”
“Remember that summer Dad bought the boat?”
A tired laugh.
“You sank it.”
“I did not sink it.”
“You drove it into the dock.”
“The dock moved.”
Even Dante smiled.
Isabella did too.
Camille understood what Julian was doing.
Keeping her awake.
Keeping her connected.
For fifteen minutes they talked about childhood arguments, terrible vacations, Violet destroying a designer sofa, and the time Isabella had convinced twelve-year-old Julian that their grandmother’s attic was haunted.
Then the technician arrived.
The next thirty-seven minutes were the longest of Camille’s life.
The wire was real.
So was the trap.
But it was crude.
Designed more to frighten than to guarantee ignition.
Eventually the technician entered.
Dante followed.
Julian followed him.
Camille stayed close behind because Isabella was injured.
They found her in a small storage room at the bottom of the stairs.
She was wrapped in an old blanket.
Her ankle was badly swollen.
Her lips were pale.
A half-empty water bottle stood beside her.
Violet refused to leave.
Julian dropped to his knees.
Isabella stared at him.
Then slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room.
Camille’s eyebrows rose.
Julian touched his cheek.
“What was that for?”
“You took three days.”
He pulled his sister into his arms.
“Hit me again.”
She began crying.
So did he, although Julian Moretti disguised it by pressing his face against her hair.
Camille turned away.
Some moments belonged to families.
Then Violet hissed.
Camille looked down.
The cat was staring toward the doorway.
A security guard stood there.
Middle-aged.
Heavyset.
Moretti crest on his jacket.
“Mr. Moretti,” he said. “We should move. Now.”
Violet’s fur rose.
Camille noticed immediately.
So did Isabella.
Her hand locked around Julian’s sleeve.
“That voice.”
Everyone froze.
The guard took one step backward.
Dante drew his weapon.
“Hands.”
The man ran.
He made it three steps.
Dante caught him before he reached the stairs.
The fight lasted seconds.
No dramatic gunfire.
No blood across walls.
Just a heavy body hitting concrete and Dante pinning one arm behind the man’s back.
Julian approached slowly.
Camille had never seen rage become so quiet.
“What did you do to my sister?”
The guard laughed.
Wrong decision.
Julian’s hand curled into a fist.
Camille stepped between them.
He stared at her.
“He knows things,” she said.
“I know.”
“You break his jaw, talking becomes difficult.”
Dante glanced away, hiding another smile.
Julian looked at Camille for several seconds.
Then lowered his hand.
“Dante.”
“Yes?”
“Make him extremely comfortable.”
Dante understood.
“Of course.”
The guard’s smile vanished.
An ambulance transported Isabella to a private hospital.
Camille examined Violet in the back of Julian’s SUV because nobody could convince the cat to enter another carrier.
She finally found the source of Violet’s pain.
A deep abrasion beneath her collar.
And embedded in the thick fur around her neck—
tiny fragments of blue thread.
The same blue fabric found near the delivery van.
Camille placed the fragments inside a sterile evidence bag.
Julian watched.
“She tore Isabella’s scarf.”
“Probably escaping through that vent.”
Camille separated the fur gently.
Then she found something else.
A dark stain.
Not blood.
Grease.
Industrial lubricant.
She smelled it.
Recognition came slowly.
“I’ve smelled this before.”
Julian leaned closer.
“Where?”
“The clinic delivery dock.”
They looked at each other.
The pharmaceutical van.
The driver who ran.
The warehouse.
Someone had used that route.
Someone connected Julian’s household security to Camille’s veterinary clinic.
The kidnapping had not been improvised.
It had been built around routines.
Predictable deliveries.
Predictable guards.
Predictable blind spots.
Julian’s phone rang.
He answered.
Dante’s voice came through.
The captured guard had given them a name.
Julian’s expression hardened.
“Say it again.”
Camille could not hear Dante’s answer.
But she saw Julian’s reaction.
Disbelief first.
Then something worse.
Betrayal.
He ended the call.
“Who?” Camille asked.
May you like
Julian looked toward the hospital entrance where Isabella had just disappeared.
“My uncle.”
