18

The roar of the black SUV's engine was loud, breaking the silence of the foggy night as it headed north. Behind the wheel, Aaron Vargas' fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Every second that passed felt like a year of punishment to him. Next to him, Sebastian continued to monitor the tactical tablet with his face illuminated by the pale blue light from the screen. "They're not moving, sir. The GPS signal from the getaway car stopped at the coordinates of the old dock in sector seven," Sebastian reported, his voice calm but with an unmistakable tension. Aaron didn't answer. His eyes, red with anger and smoke, stared straight ahead. His thoughts drifted to Amelie, who had been lying helplessly in the courtyard of the burning mansion. The woman's sobs as she begged him to save Rossie still rang clearly in his ears, tearing away the last remnants of coldness in his heart. "If I fail to bring Rossie back, I will never be able to look her in the ey