"Mateo, tell me where you're hiding my son. Tell me he is safe wherever you kept him," Kendall panicked over the phone.
"What the heck are you talking about, Kendall?" Mateo asked.
"Don't play dumb, asshole! I'm talking about Kadmiel; my son. He's all I've got, and I won't spare you if anything happens to him."
"If his life is in danger, I swear, I got nothing to do with it. Blame your carefree attitude for whatever happened. But I assure you, I will hold you responsible if that boy isn't found," he threatened.
"I've always hated the games you play," she wiped her tears, and ended the call.
Kendall picked up her phone again and dialed a number, then placed the call on her ear.
"What took you so long to answer the damn phone?"
"It's advisable that you mind your tone, and tell me why you called."
"Don't lie to me, Aubrey. Do you have Kadmiel; my son with you?" she asked.
There was a long silence before he replied. "Oh, yeah. I guess you just figured it out. He's traumatized at the moment. All I need from you is his legal custody. If you wish to disagree or try to outsmart me, then I'd be sending down his corpse to you," he threatened, ruffling the little boy's hair.
Her ears couldn't believe the words that escaped his mouth.
Aubrey crouched beside him, his eyes still dilated with the awful fear of death, looking back, breathless, and fidgeting. His legs were wobbly with fear. His eyes darted from left to right; wild with terror. His blood froze in his veins.
"Come on. Say hi to momma," he lifted his chin with a gun, making his heart leap into his throat. Kadmiel opened his mouth to speak, but not a single word escaped. He was dumbstruck.
"Speak!" Aubrey nostrils flared.
Dread twisted in his gut. "Mo… mother, can yo… you hear me?" his voice quavered as he managed to speak. "I- I miss you so much. I just hope you come get me soon."
Aubrey disconnected the call with a glint of pity in his eyes.
"I'm afraid you'll never see your family again, except in your dreams or afterlife. For the rest of your life, you'll remain under my nose."
"One more thing– Henceforth, call me father," he added before leaving the room, then locked him up.
…
Three hours ago;
Kadmiel ran out of patience waiting for his mum to pick him up from school. All his friends had gone home, including the other kids. He sat by the school's playground where he usually waited until she came, then began playing with the swing.
He could feel the impending danger at the sound of gunshots. Bullets were fired at people within the school vicinity, dropping some dead instantly. Still possessing a kid's mentality, he was at a standstill position, frozen with terror. There was no hideout.
Three men dressed in black approached his direction; one led the way, followed behind by two other men. Intimidating. Muscular. Scary. He screamed out his lungs, but no one came to his aid. His terrified gaze fixed on them as he took some steps backward.
"Get the kid," the gang leader ordered. Immediately, the two men left his side, and walked to him.
One of the men bent to his ears. "Don't make our mission harder, little boy."
"Leave me alone, please," he cried, trembling in fear. His heart was nearly out of his mouth.
"Pass the hankie." A white piece of cloth was handed over to the man lowered to the ground, then he covered his nose. Poor Kadmiel fought for his life until he passed out. The other man gauged his mouth with a tape, and carried him in his arms.
They walked in silence and unison, cautious of their environment, then threw his body into the trunk of their black van. The cops could show up unalarmed, so they had to hurry. One of the two men hopped on the driver's seat, the leader at the back and the other man, beside the driver's seat.
The sirens of police vans alarmed that the cops were after them. They turned off their location, and began firing aimlessly at the vans behind theirs.
"Drive faster, bastard." The leader shouted.
"Sorry, boss," he apologized without turning back. He couldn't lose focus at that moment.
The leader targeted for the front tyres of one of the police vans and fired, bursting the tyre open. They dodged the bullets fired at them. One of the bullets shattered their rear glass window, but they kept moving at high speed. It was neither their first nor second time.
Soon, the police vans were out of sight. They had lost their track.
"Drive to the penthouse," the leader ordered, feeling relaxed, but still alerted.