[⚠️ Trigger Warning: This chapter contains graphic depictions of abduction, drugging, threats of sexual violence, child endangerment, and emotional manipulation/coercion. It may be distressing or triggering for some readers. Please prioritize your mental well-being and proceed with caution. If needed, skip this chapter or read with support.]
I stared at him, horrified. A congressman, a public figure, and Robbie's father's friend, he ordered my son's abduction?
"I see that look," he said, chuckling. "Don't worry. You'll understand soon. But for now—" He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. "This is what you really want to see."
He turned it toward me. I couldn't see from where I was, so I stumbled closer.
I saw Twen, sleeping on a bed in a dimly lit room, cozy-looking but unfamiliar. Two guards stood nearby. One was smoking, the other scrolling on his phone.
"Twen!" I screamed and lunged forward, but fell face-first to the floor.
Olsen stood and approached, holding the phone down to me. I sat up, clutching at the image.
"What have you done to him?" I cried.
He shrugged. "As of now? Nothing."
I didn't believe him. My mind reeled. He'd drugged me, did he drug him too? The side effects are so strong. What had he done to Twen? My child. He's just seven years old.
"You didn't... you didn't drug him, did you?" My voice cracked.
Olsen dusted his coat off and said with infuriating calm, "Well, just a bit of chloroform. He needed to be quiet."
"Chloroform?!" I choked. "He's a child!"
"It was a mild dose. Just a little dizziness, nausea. You're overreacting."
"Why are you doing this?" I begged. "Was this Mr. Walker's idea?"
He burst out laughing. "Ricardo? That self-righteous bastard? He begged me to deal with you, get you away from his son. But he balked when I said we'd need leverage. He couldn't handle it. Pathetic."
I clenched my fists. These Alphas and their egos. My son and I were nothing more than pawns in their power games.
"Why involve my son?" I asked quietly, my voice breaking. "He's innocent."
Olsen's eyes darkened. "An eye for an eye."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," he said slowly, "the only thing in this world I truly care about is my daughter, Sarah Olsen."
My heart dropped into my stomach. Sarah? Robbie's ex-fiancée?
"You took something from her," he said, his voice sharp. "You made her smile disappear. So now, I'm taking something from you."
"NO! Please, no!" I was nearly prostrating myself. "Don't hurt him. He's just a child. Please!"
He knelt beside me, gripped my hair, and forced my face up to his.
"And what would you do to make me consider that?"
Pain surged through my scalp. My eyes filled with tears. "Anything. I'll do anything. Just don't hurt him."
"Anything?" His voice was a low purr of menace.
I nodded. He released me, and I collapsed again, shivering.
When he returned, he had papers in hand.
"Wh-what are those?" I asked.
"A contract," he said. "You'll sign it."
"What does it say?"
He rolled his eyes. "It says you're leaving this state with your son, never contacting Robbie Walker again. No letters, no calls, no social media, and no slip-ups. You'll disappear, and if you don't… your son goes to Robbie and his future wife, my daughter."
I stared at him in shock, the finality of it stealing the breath from my lungs. Robbie, Fred, Tanya, Sam, Jenny… all of it… over.
"I'll sign it," I said, tears sliding down my face.
Olsen grinned. "Excellent. I'll even fund your little escape."
I nodded, unable to speak. I wouldn't even get to say goodbye. Everything I'd built… torn away.
"Please give me the pen. Let's get this over with," I said.
He walked to the table and placed the contract there.
"Mr. Olsen, I just want this to be over," I whispered. "Before Robbie and the others start looking—"
"They won't find you," he said, amused. "You've only been here an hour. This place isn't on any map."
Then he added, voice laced with something darker: "So... why not enjoy ourselves a little, while we wait?"
A chill shot through me.
I looked up and realized how close I was to him. My face level with his zipper.
No.
My breath hitched as the meaning of his words registered. He looked down at me, his expression gleaming with sadistic pleasure.
"I hope," he said slowly, relishing every word, "talking isn't the only thing your mouth is good at."