Chapter 4 The Devil's Call

The engine yelled as I accelerated the streets, the SUV turned dangerously with every sharp turn.

We escaped closely.

My adhesion on the steering wheel was IronClad, my white joints.

"Slow down, Ry!" James's voice was tense and his hand grabbed the dashboard.

I didn't answer. My mind was spinning and playing everything that had just happened. The informant. He built me.

But why?

"Ryan, I mean it, I slowed," James tried again, now his tone sharper.

"Call the pilot," I finally said, my voice cool and firm. "Prepare a nozzle. We're heading back to Spain immediately."

James turned to me, in disbelief. "Back to Spain? We didn't do anything here! We're in New York on a mission ..."

I cut it off with a look that immediately silenced him.

"We're heading back to Spain," I said, and finally my tone. "Call the pilot ... now."

James, of course, knew better than to argue ...

**********

Three weeks later.

POV Sophie (Elena)

The woman in the mirror stared at me, her posture straight, her view stable.

Trust radiated her like the second skin.

I kept a little smile.

I was no longer shy, weak Sophie Hendricks. Now I was Elena Maxwell and I had to completely embody this identity.

"He owns it," Mrs. Janet said in my mind, how clearly, as if standing beside me.

Mrs. Janet. My angel in human form. She was my guide light in the darkness of those prison years. She helped me navigate in my pregnancy and was there when Jonas came into the world. I owed her so much.

I finally visited her today.

Becca, my trustworthy companion and former assistant to Mrs. Janet, waited in front of the house.

It was the one that picked me up on the day I was released, and since then it has been on my side.

Together we headed for prison, where Mrs. Janetová was now staying.

We arrived in no time. The gates of the device emerged high, but nothing intimidated me about them.

No longer.

We quickly made the process. The influence of Mrs Janetová ensures that things move smoothly.

When I finally saw her, she stood in prison uniform, looked as impressive as I remembered. Her hair was perfectly stylized, her posture of the royal body, and her sharp eyes lit up when they met mine.

"Elena," she greeted and pulled me into a warm embrace. The fabric of her uniform was rough, but her touch was known, grounding.

"Mrs. Janet," I said, my voice stable, yet full of gratitude.

She retreated and studied me with a pleasing expression. "Look at you." You're another woman. "

"I had to be," I replied with a small smile.

She led us to her private room in prison. Few had only a few privileges. The space was thin but well maintained, the reflection of the woman who occupied her.

When we sat down, she looked around. "Where is my little Jonas?" I don't see him anywhere. "

"Today is a class trip at his school," I explained. "He's out with other children."

She nodded and softened her expression. "He grew up so fast. And you raise him beautifully, Elena. "

Her words warmed something in me and I smiled in response. Mrs. Janet was always more than a mentor. She was a family.

Mrs. Janet's view moved towards Becka, a fine signal that I didn't miss. Her expression grew more serious, the heat from earlier fading into a sharper focus.

Becca immediately caught the signal and leaned forward, reached into the bag and pulled out a slim file.

"Here's the document you demanded, Madam," she said, and her professional tone when she handed it over to Mrs Janet.

Mrs. Janet without a word expanded the ensemble to me and her eyes locked up with mine. "That's for you, Elena," she said, her voice.

Before I hesitated before I took it, my fingers wiped off the smooth edge of the file when I opened it with trembling hands and my heart almost stopped when I saw it ... Elena Maxwell.

Real Elena Maxwell. Late daughter Mrs. Janet.

My eyes scanned the pages in disbelief and suddenly stopped the name that sent me the chills on my spine: Bruce Hendricks.

I couldn't stop the breath that escaped my lips.

"Why is his name here? What is the connection? " I asked my voice unevenly, the eyes that threw themselves from the ensemble to Mrs. Janet.

She smiled weakly, even though there was no humor in it.

Her expression was cold, calculation. "Your husband," she started and stopped briefly, "sorry," former husband ", is not just a drug trader who hides behind his so -called design society. He is also a murderer. A man who takes lives without a second idea."

Her words hit like a wound. My mind raced when I tried to process them, but it wasn't done.

"I let Becca bring them to see for yourself, so I asked her to bring documents."

I turned back to the papers and my eyes clearly slipped out the accusing details.

My stomach was spewing. The dots began to join. Timelines, agreements, accidents that I wiped as a coincidence during our marriage.

One year of marriage. One year.

"Did I know him at all?" The question slipped out of my lips before I realized I said it out loud. My voice cracked, heavy with distrust.

Mrs. Janet leaned slightly forward, her tone company. "No, Elena." No. But now yes. "

I was about to say something other than the words died on my lips.

"Relax Soph," she said, "all you should do is avenge .. for you .. For us. Now you can't be weak, sweetheart. Good?"

I tried to create words, say anything, but my throat felt as if it had closed itself. Before I could gather the answer, my phone rang.

I looked at the screen. A special number.

My eyes rushed between Becca and Mrs. Janet. They both nodded and urged me to pick it up.

I hesitated, then I ran over to answer and lift the phone to my ear without saying a word.

Before I could speak, a voice went through. Smooth, mocking and too well -known.

"Hey, the Elena Maxwell. You didn't think it was necessary to give me a call? Turns out you're alive after all. I got the information."

My heart dropped into my stomach. That voice. Oh, God. I knew it too well. Even after all these years, it hadn't changed.

I gripped the phone so tighter my knuckles ached.

"Who's this?" I asked, my voice low and shaky, though I already knew the answer.

A dry chuckle. "You want to play hide and seek? Well, it's me, Bruce Hendricks. Who else?"

My breath caught, and without a second thought, I ended the call, my trembling fingers barely able to press the button.

The phone slipped out of my hand and landed on the table with a matte bang.

"No," I whispered, shook his head as she continued my chest. "No I can't ... I can't do that."

"Elena." Mrs. Janet's firm voice ripped me out of my spiral thoughts. She leaned forward and pierced her sharp look.

"You'll do it. You have to! You can't be weak! "

Before Becca and I went out, we had several other talks.

On our way to my son's school, the call came again .. a strange number from the previous one.

"What fuck does it want?!" I murmured.

"Hey, pick the call." Becca said, and I did it and gathered my determination. I can't be weak, Mrs. Janet said.

I put the phone on the speaker and his voice went through .. a strange, almost ridiculous tone that sent me the cold on my spine.

"Elena Maxwell," he stretched out and stretched my name as if it were a private joke. "I thought let me know ... I have your little boy with me." Right now. For now, safe, at least. "

My heart stopped.

"If you want your boy back," he continued, and his tone without humor, "you know where to find me."

"What?!" The word torn from my neck, my voice shakes with panic and anger.

The line was dead.

Becca looked at me and her joints tightened around the steering wheel. "She bluffs," she said, even though her voice had doubts.

"It's not," I whispered, trembling my hands.

My phone buzzed again. This time he was Jonas's teacher. When I replied, my stomach was spewing.

"Hi?" I did.

"Mrs. Maxwell," Her voice hesitated. "I tried to reach you. Jonas is... missing. We can't find him anywhere. "

It was like a country below me.

"No ... no, no, no!" I was driving down and joined the dashboard for support. My voice was frantic. "What do you mean missing? You should have been watching him! "

"Ma'am, he was here a few minutes ago and now ..."

I didn't hear the rest.

The phone slipped out of my hand as I shouted, "Turn back to the prison, Becca!"

"Elena ..."

"Now! The bastard has my son!"