Adrian’s POV
The call comes at 3 AM from Vincent's contact in Geneva. A lead on short-term rentals in Old Town. Not in Bellamy's name, he's too smart for that, but the payment pattern matches his methods.
Cash deposits. Monthly installments. No paper trail beyond the lease itself.
"It's on Rue de l'Hôtel-de-Ville," the contact says. "Third-floor apartment, occupied for approximately six weeks."
Six weeks. The timeline fits perfectly.
I have an address. I'm out of bed before the call ends, grabbing clothes, texting Ayden. We can be there in twenty minutes. We can end this today. Right now.
"Adrian." Ayden's voice is cautious when he arrives at my hotel room. "We need to confirm she's there first. Plan this carefully."
"We have the address."
"Which might be wrong. Or empty. Or lead to Bellamy realizing we're onto him and disappearing again."
He grabs my arm as I try to move past him. "I know you want to kick that door down, I know you want her back right now. But if we fuck this up, we lose her. Possibly forever."
The words hit like ice water.
He's right. I know he's right. But forcing myself to slow down when Sophie is potentially twenty minutes away feels impossible.
"What do you suggest?" My voice is tight, controlled.
"Surveillance first—confirm occupants, observe patterns, then we go in smart, not reckless."
I want to scream, want to tear the city apart until I find her. But Ayden's logic is sound.
"Fine." The word tastes like ash. "We surveil. But the moment we confirm she's there…"
"The moment we confirm, we move. I promise."
***
The building on Rue de l'Hôtel-de-Ville is typical Old Town Geneva. Historic stone facade, narrow entrance, windows with flower boxes. The kind of place you'd never suspect harbored a kidnapping victim.
Third floor. Corner unit. Windows facing the street. We rent a room across the way. Set up cameras and surveillance equipment. Watch.
Day one: No movement we can identify. Lights turn on and off but we don't see faces clearly enough.
Day two: A child exits with an older woman. Too far away to confirm it's Noah, but the age is right.
Day three: Nothing.
I'm losing my mind. Every hour that passes feels like torture. Knowing she's so close but not being able to move. Not being able to confirm it's really her.
"Patience," Ayden reminds me. "We're close. Don't fuck it up now."
Day four, morning. An older woman exits the building carrying grocery bags.
"I'm going to approach her," Ayden says, already moving toward the door.
"What—"
"Neighbors talk. Let me try."
He's out the door before I can argue. I watch through the window as he crosses the street, intercepts the woman near the building entrance.
"Excuse me, madame," Ayden's voice comes through the earpiece we set up. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for some friends who might live in this building. Would you mind looking at a photo?"
The woman stops, adjusts her grocery bags. "Of course, young man."
I watch Ayden pull out his phone. Show her something. My heart is pounding so hard I can barely breathe.
The woman's face lights up. "Oh yes! The lovely couple on the third floor. They moved in not so long ago." She smiles warmly. "Such a beautiful couple—and he has the sweetest little boy. Always so polite."
My vision tunnels. The lovely couple. Beautiful couple.
"They seem very happy together," the woman continues, oblivious to the knife she's twisting. "It's nice to see young people so in love these days. And that little boy—Noah, I think his name is—such a sweetheart."
Rage surges through me like fire.
A couple. Strangers see them as a couple. Look at them and see happiness. See love. See a family.
Bellamy stole Sophie from our wedding day, took her before I could make her my wife. Before we could start our life together. Before she could be mine officially, legally, permanently.
And now everyone thinks Sophie and Bellamy are together. The beautiful couple. Happy together. Playing house in a Geneva apartment while I've been losing my mind searching for her.
While Amelia grows up without her mother. While I lie awake every night wondering if Sophie is okay, if she's scared, if she thinks I've abandoned her.
The lovely couple.
I'm moving before I realize it: out of the room, down the stairs, toward the building across the street.
Ayden's voice cuts through the earpiece. "Adrian! Don't."
I don't stop.
"Adrian, stand down! Now!"
I'm halfway across the street when Ayden physically intercepts me. Grabs my arm, redirects me toward an alley between buildings.
"Get off me!"
"Not here." His voice is urgent, low. "Not in public where that woman can see you lose your shit. Not where Bellamy might look out the window and see you."
"She's right there." The words come out strangled. "Sophie is in that building. Third floor. Twenty feet above where we're standing. And I'm supposed to just walk away?"
"Yes. Because if you go up there right now, furious and reckless, what happens?”
Ayden's grip tightens.
"Best case, you find her and Bellamy runs or calls the police or does something desperate. Worst case, you get arrested for breaking and entering and Sophie is still trapped. Either way, you don't get what you want."
"What I want…"
"Is Sophie safe. Home. With you and Amelia. Alive and whole and not collateral damage in whatever explosion happens when you confront Bellamy." He's right in my face now. "So you're going to walk away. Right now. And we're going to plan this properly."
The rational part of my brain knows he's right. Knows charging in blind will only make things worse.
But the part of me that's been searching for over a month, that's been eaten alive by worry and rage and desperate need—that part doesn't care about rational.
That part wants to tear the building apart with my bare hands until I find her.
"Adrian." Ayden's voice softens slightly. "We know where she is now, we have confirmation. That's the hard part done. Now we just need to be smart about the extraction."
"How long?"
"Give me one day. Twenty-four hours to plan this properly, to make sure we get her out safely. Then we move."
One day. Twenty-four more hours of knowing exactly where Sophie is and not being able to go to her. Not being able to tell her I found her. That I'm here. That I never stopped looking.
Twenty-four more hours of strangers thinking she and Bellamy are a happy couple while I stand outside unable to do anything.
"Fine." The word is ground glass. "Twenty-four hours. Then I'm going in whether you have a plan or not."
"Fair enough." Ayden releases my arm. "Let's get back to the hotel. Start planning."
I let him guide me away from the building. Away from Sophie. Every step feels wrong. Feels like abandonment.
But I force myself to keep walking. Because Ayden's right—we're close now, so close. And I can't fuck this up.
Not when I'm this close to getting her back. Not when I'm twenty-four hours away from making her mine again.