Chapter 153: Before the Clock Strikes Twelve! 1

Micah’s POV

The bed of the cargo truck rattled violently as it hit another deep pothole, sending a sharp shock through my tailbone.

The air inside the container was stifling, thick with exhaust fumes, sweat, and terror. Beside me, a girl with messy brown hair had her face buried in her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Her wrists were bound tightly in front of her with thick plastic zip-ties, the rough plastic biting deep into her skin.

My own hands were tied behind my back with heavy nylon cord.

I leaned my head against the vibrating metal wall, staring at the floorboards in disbelief.

My own father had ordered this.

Bernard Miller had looked me dead in the eyes outside the arena press deck, smiled like a proud father, and told me he would see me very soon. Then, the moment I walked into the basement corridor, his men had smashed the back of my skull and tossed me into the back of a truck like a sack of grain.

What the hell was he planning? Was I leverage against Noah? Was I just another hostage to inflate the terror of Plan Mayor? Or did the sick bastard actually believe he was keeping me safe by caging me with the rest of his victims?

SCREEECH.

The truck slammed on its brakes, pitching everyone forward in a tangled heap of limbs.

The engine died with a heavy shudder. Outside, heavy metal chains rattled, followed by the clanking sound of sliding bolts.

The rear doors were thrown wide open.

A blinding flood of high-powered tactical halogen lights hit us straight in the eyes. I squinted hard, turning my face away as cold night air rushed into the sweltering container.

"Out! Move your asses!" a harsh voice bellowed from below.

Two men in dark tactical gear and ski masks stood at the tailgate, holding batons. They reached inside, grabbing hostages by their collars and violently hauling them over the edge.

A boy from the track team was shoved hard, crashing face-first into the dirt with a loud cry of pain. The girl beside me was yanked down by her hair, stumbling onto her knees.

Then it was my turn.

I shuffled to the edge of the tailgate, bracing myself for a violent shove.

The guard reached his gloved hand out, his fingers hovering inches from my jacket. He stopped. His eyes met mine through the slit in his mask, his gaze dropping to the cream designer sweater Damon had given me this morning.

The guard pulled his hands back immediately, stepping aside.

"Jump down carefully," the man muttered under his breath, his tone completely shifting.

I swallowed hard, hopped down onto the gravel on my own two feet, and stood upright.

"Treat him well... after all, he is my dearest son."

Remembering Bernard’s parting words made a wave of sick, burning nausea rise in my throat. Even while kidnapping me, he ordered his thugs to treat me like fragile royalty while the other students were treated like slaughtered cattle.

"Inside. Walk," the guard ordered, nudging my shoulder forward with the butt of his baton, using barely any force.

We were marched through the rusted roll-up doors of a massive, derelict industrial warehouse. The ground floor was littered with broken crates, rusted shipping containers, and shattered glass. We were led toward the rear loading bay, where a heavy iron trapdoor was pulled wide open in the concrete floor.

A narrow flight of steep concrete stairs descended into the dark earth below.

They marched us down into a subterranean complex—an abandoned civil defense bunker reinforced with thick concrete walls and steel blast doors.

The moment we cleared the bottom landing, my breath caught in my throat.

The bunker was massive. Sitting in scattered clusters along the cold walls were dozens of young people. College students, local athletes, campus journalists. All of them had their hands bound, their faces pale, hollow, and stained with dried tears. This was the holding pen for the citywide abductions.

I scanned the room, my heart hammering against my ribs.

In the far corner, huddled under the dim yellow glow of a hanging bulb, was a girl with striking, unmistakable blonde hair.

Sunny.

Phoenix’s missing little sister.

My feet moved before my brain could stop them. "Sunny!"

I broke into a fast jog, rushing straight toward the corner.

A nearby guard holding a submachine gun stepped into my path, his weapon coming up. "Hey! Sit the fuck down, you little—"

"Stand down!" another guard snapped from across the room, rushing over and grabbing the armed man’s shoulder. He whispered in his ear: "Leave him alone, idiot. That’s Bernard Miller’s kid. Touch him and the boss will have your skin."

The armed guard froze, lowered his barrel, and stepped back into the shadows.

I didn’t care about their whispers. I reached the corner and dropped heavily onto my knees in front of the blonde girl.

Sunny’s head snapped up.

Her face was smudged with dirt, her blue eyes swollen, red, and bloodshot from days of terror. The moment her gaze locked onto my face, her breath hitched in a sharp, strangled gasp.

"Micah?!" Sunny choked out.

She threw her upper body forward, wrapping her bound arms over my neck and burying her face into my shoulder. She clung to me like a drowning person catching a lifeline, her slender frame shaking violently as hot tears soaked straight through my collar.

"Micah... oh God, Micah, you’re here..." Sunny sobbed, her voice trembling with a mixture of overwhelming relief and deep heartbreak. "I thought I was hallucinating... but why are you here?! Why did they take you too?!"

I leaned my forehead against her shoulder, my chest aching with an unbearable, suffocating weight of guilt.

’Because of my father,’ I thought, closing my eyes tight against the burning tears. ’Because the man who raised me is the monster who put you in this cage.’

"I’m sorry, Sunny," I whispered, my voice cracking into pieces. "I’m so, so sorry you’ve been trapped here like this."

Sunny pulled back slightly, sniffing hard and wiping her nose against her shoulder. "Phoenix... does my brother know where I am? Has he been looking for me?"

"He’s tearing the entire city apart looking for you," I told her honestly, holding her gaze. "He hasn’t slept in a week, Sunny. Raven is searching day and night. Phoenix will never stop looking for you. Never."

A tiny, fragile flicker of hope lit up her swollen eyes, but it died almost instantly.