Chapter 285

Lucas's POV

I stared at the security footage, my jaw clenched so tight I could feel a dull ache spreading through my temples. The smooth leather of the chair creaked beneath me as I leaned forward, eyes fixed on the screen.

"Rachel's driving her own sedan," I said, keeping my voice deliberately steady. Inside, a storm was building, but I couldn't afford to lose control.

Beside me, Serena's face was pale, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She was trying so hard to be strong, and seeing her struggle sent a fresh wave of pain through my chest.

"The car," I continued, focusing on the facts rather than the fear. "Besides Rachel and Stella, there are three other people inside."

My fingers moved across the keyboard, capturing screenshots of the three faces. The one holding Milo was somewhat clear, but the other two were blurry shadows in the background.

I turned to Serena, trying to keep my voice calm. "Send these to Atticus. Ask him to get clear photos of these three from Rachel's security team."

Serena nodded, immediately pulling out her phone. Her hands trembled slightly, but her eyes were determined. "I'll call him right now."

While she contacted Atticus, I forwarded the images to my own team. Every second counted. I could feel time slipping through my fingers like sand, each grain potentially taking Milo further away from us.

"Atticus is sending the photos," Serena said, her voice breaking slightly. "He says he'll have them within minutes."

I reached out without thinking, covering her hand with mine. Her skin was cold. "We'll find him," I promised, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. "I have people all over the city looking already."

Her eyes met mine, vulnerable yet trusting. "I know," she whispered. "I know you'll find him."

My phone rang, interrupting the moment. I answered immediately upon seeing Miles's number.

"Sir, we've located Rachel's car. It's in a parking structure by the abandoned warehouse district, only the driver got out. The footage clearly shows there was no one else inside. The driver matches one of the photos you sent me."

"Any further tracking?" I asked, my heart rate accelerating with this first real lead.

"The area is remote. Surveillance cameras are sparse out there. I went through the footage repeatedly and finally discovered he boarded a public bus. I checked the bus surveillance and saw him get off at the shopping center. He quickly disappeared into the crowd, and we lost sight of him." Miles detailed the tracking situation.

"What about the shopping center cameras?" I pressed, refusing to overlook any possibility.

"We have footage, but it's crowded. Even with more than ten people reviewing different segments, we haven't spotted them yet..."

"Send it to me," I ordered, already clearing space on my second monitor.

"One more thing, sir," Miles added. "You asked me to trace Rachel's phone's cell tower location. The last ping was at Milo's school. That's the last place she used her phone."

"Understood." My mind was already mapping potential routes and hideouts.

As soon as the call ended, I turned to the fresh set of images Serena had received from Atticus. High-resolution faces stared back at us. I committed each face to memory, then distributed them to my security team with explicit instructions.

"Miles," I called back. "Have someone check that mall in person. See if our suspect is still there."

Even as I coordinated the search, I knew we needed more help. My fingers hovered over Drew's contact for just a moment before I made the call.

"Drew, Milo's been taken by Rachel. I need your help." The words felt foreign in my mouth.

The room around us had transformed into a command center. Computer screens cast a blue glow over our faces, security feeds flickered across multiple monitors, and our phones continuously buzzed with updates.

Serena remained by my side, her breathing shallow but controlled. She was analyzing footage from the shopping center, meticulously scanning each frame for any sign of Milo or his captors, her eyes red-rimmed.

The doorbell's sharp ring cut through my thoughts. Fifteen minutes after my call, Spencer and Drew rushed in, their faces tight with concern.

Forty minutes later, "Sir, we've searched the entire shopping center. There's no sign of that man. He must have left already," Miles reported, his voice hesitant.

"Left?" I repeated, the word tasting bitter on my tongue.

I leaned closer to the screen, rewinding the footage for what must have been the twentieth time. My eyes scanned every pixel, every shadow, every movement. Nothing escaped my attention. And yet, somehow, this man had vanished.

"I'll have the team search again, see if we missed something. I'll report back," Miles said.

"Hmm," I responded, barely registering his words as I continued to study the monitors.

The shopping center was sprawling-four levels of stores, restaurants, and entertainment venues. Thousands of people passed through its doors every day. And somewhere, hidden among them, was the man who had taken my son.

My son.

The thought of him alone and frightened made my chest constrict painfully. I forced myself to breathe steadily, to focus on the task at hand. Emotion clouded judgment, and right now, Milo needed my mind to be clear.

Suddenly, a thought struck me with such clarity that I nearly jerked upright in my chair.

"What if he disguised himself?" I said, more to myself than anyone else.

Spencer, who had been silently analyzing the footage beside me, nodded. "It's possible."

"Let's think this through," I said, forcing my racing thoughts into order.

I pushed back from the desk, my mind mapping out possibilities with cold precision. "Rachel came from Portland to Manhattan to kidnap Milo. Manhattan isn't Thorne territory-she couldn't have prepared extensively. That means her bodyguard couldn't have planted disguise clothes in the shopping center beforehand."

My eyes returned to the footage, zooming in on the man's figure. "From the video, he wasn't carrying any bag or package that could contain a change of clothes. The only possibility is that he purchased something to wear from one of the stores in the center."

I turned to Miles, my voice sharp with urgency. "Take his photo and have your people question every clothing retailer in the center. Ask if they saw him, what he bought, which direction he went when he left."

Then I looked at Spencer and the others. "You should focus on the smaller stores and market stalls. Places selling inexpensive, generic clothing would be ideal for a quick disguise."

The room burst into activity, everyone moving with renewed purpose. I returned to the monitors, methodically checking each camera feed with even greater attention.

Less than thirty minutes later, Drew called my name. "Lucas."

I turned, and he pointed to his screen. "Is this our guy?"

I moved to his side in three quick strides, my gaze locking onto the image. The height, the build, the way he carried himself-despite the changes to his appearance, I recognized him instantly.

"That's him," I confirmed, my voice hardening.

"He bought a dark gray outdated coat and a black hat," Drew explained. "Disguised himself as an elderly man."

Without another word, I returned to my computer, fingers flying across the keyboard as I tracked the man's movements through the shopping center's surveillance system. "Got him. He left through the third exit."