Chapter 2 - The Ten-Minute War
Marcus Reed answered my frantic call on the very first ring.
Before joining the corporate world, Marcus had spent twelve years in federal protective services.
He now ran an elite private security firm trusted by Fortune 500 executives and federal judges.
"Daniel?" his voice came through the speaker, crisp and entirely alert.
"I need you at my Greenwich house right now," I said, my voice sounding flat and terrifyingly calm.
Marcus instantly shifted into tactical mode. "What's happening?"
"My son is being assaulted in our garage."
A heavy silence stretched across the phone line before Marcus spoke again. "By whom?"
"My wife. Her father. Three other adults."
"Where is Mason?"
"Hanging upside down from a beam in the garage."
"Weapons involved?"
"I don't know for sure, but they have a belt."
"Should I call the local police?"
"Call them after you secure Mason and get him away from those monsters."
"Daniel—" Marcus started, but I cut him off.
"He is six years old, Marcus. Move."
Another brief pause. "I understand. I'm taking the encrypted feed now."
"I'll give you instant access to the security cameras, smart locks, alarm, and front gate."
"Do it right now," Marcus ordered.
I opened the security app on my phone, my fingers shaking so badly I messed up my password twice.
Marcus's voice cut through my panic. "My nearest tactical team is approximately ten minutes out."
"Ten minutes?" the number felt like an eternity.
"It's the absolute fastest I can legally get them onto your property, Daniel."
I looked back down at my laptop screen in absolute agony.
Richard had just lowered Mason almost to the floor, giving the boy false hope.
Mason curled his small arms tightly over his head to protect himself.
Then Richard viciously hauled him back up into the air.
Victoria pointed a finger directly at her son, her lips moving rapidly.
She was clearly lecturing him about something, though the audio remained dead.
Mason’s reaction broke something deep inside my chest.
He stopped struggling entirely.
That sudden surrender frightened me far more than his previous crying.
Because I intimately recognized the look of absolute defeat.
I had spent my own difficult childhood bouncing through six different foster homes before I turned fifteen.
I knew exactly what a child looked like when he realized fighting back only made the beatings worse.
Suddenly, dozens of small, ignored moments from the past few months violently rearranged themselves in my head.
Mason asking if he could leave the dinner table immediately after finishing every single bite.
Mason flinching every time I reached into my bedroom closet for my belt.
Mason crying and begging not to be left alone with his grandfather Richard.
Mason looking at me with wide, fearful eyes and asking, "Daddy, how long is your business trip?"
And then asking the exact same question again the following day.
Victoria had dismissed it all as normal childhood separation anxiety.
She had repeatedly told me that I was simply spoiling our only child.
Richard had backed her up, claiming the boy needed old-school structure and discipline.
Like a fool, I had believed them.
God help me, I had trusted the people who swore they loved him.
My phone rang again, pulling me violently out of my dark thoughts.
May you like
It was Marcus. "We are breaching the property perimeter now."
I closed my eyes tightly, whispering into the receiver. "Get him out of there."
