Chereads / Ten Times Investment Rebate System / Chapter 47 - Kidnapped

Chapter 47 - Kidnapped

Nevertheless, just as John picked up his phone to call his fiancee, a new message popped up on his screen: "Grace is with us. You avail yourself or you lose her. The location is tagged for you..."

John's heart raced as he stared at the message, his mind spinning. He immediately dialled the number associated with the message. After a few rings, a voice answered—a voice deep and raspy, like gravel being ground beneath a heavy boot.

"Who the hell is this?" John demanded, his voice edged with fury and fear. "What do you want with Grace?"

The voice on the other end let out a chilling chuckle, each note dripping with menace. "Mr. John," it drawled, "we have your lovely fiance. She's quite the fighter, but I'm afraid she's outmatched here."

John clenched his fist, feeling his pulse pounding in his temples. "If you touch a hair on her head— Don't even say anything to her or even touch her dress."

"Relax," the voice interrupted, its calmness only fueling John's anger. "We're not monsters. We just need you- We are on a serious mission."

"What mission? Grace has nothing to do with this!" John shouted, his voice echoing in the confines of his master bedroom.

"You misunderstand," the voice said arrogantly. "She's just our insurance. We need something from you, and she's our bargaining chip."

John's hand trembled as he gripped the phone tighter. "Why involve her? Whatever you want, deal with me directly, idiot!"

"You think we haven't tried?" The voice hardened. "You're a hard man to pin down, John. But love... love makes people vulnerable."

John's breath came in ragged gasps. "I swear, if you hurt her— You are treading on a dangerous path."

"You'll do what?" The voice was mocking now. "You're not in control here, John. But if you cooperate, she'll stay unharmed."

John swallowed hard, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"First, I want you to listen," the voice said, a sinister glee in its tone. "Listen to your fiance."

There was a muffled sound, and then John's heart sank as he heard Grace's voice, strained and fearful. "John, don't do anything stupid," she said, her words punctuated by a sharp intake of breath as if she had been struck.

"You bastards!" John yelled into the phone. "Let her go free. Look out for me if you are indeed true mercenaries."

"John!" Grace cried out, her voice shaky but defiant. "Don't tell them anything! I can handle this!"

The voice returned, taunting. "You see, she's quite strong. But how long can she last, I wonder? I am going to cut off her head with an axe just once — any delay would cost you."

"You've made your point," John said, his voice steady now, though rage simmered beneath the surface. "What do you want? If it's me, don't worry, leave her."

"We want your cooperation, John. We know about your investments. About the money and your luck."

"I don't know what you're talking about," John lied, trying to buy time.

"Don't play dumb," the voice snapped, its patience thinning. "You know exactly what we want. Give us access, or Grace suffers."

John's mind raced, calculating his options. "Tell me where you are," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "I'll come to you. We can sort this out."

The voice laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "Do you think we're amateurs, John? We know you're trying to track us. But since I'm in a good mood, I'll give you a hint. We're near your little store on Huruma Street."

John's blood ran cold. That was too close to home, too close to where he thought Grace would be safe.

The call ended abruptly, leaving John standing in the oppressive silence of his office, the only sound the frantic beating of his own heart. He felt a storm of anger and fear coursing through him, his body trembling with the effort to keep it contained.

In a blur of motion, he was moving, throwing on his boots and pulling on a pair of cargo pants. He yanked a black T-shirt over, his movements sharp and decisive. There was no time to waste.

He stormed out of the mansion, ignoring the curious looks from the staff. "I've got to go," he snapped at the gateman as he climbed into his Rolls-Royce, the engine roaring to life beneath him. "Anyone touches Grace, and they'll wish they hadn't."

The car shot down the driveway, the tires screeching as he took the corners with reckless speed. John's mind was a whirlwind of fury and desperation, each passing moment fueling his determination to save Grace.

As he approached the location near Huruma Street, he parked his car by the roadside, taking a deep breath to steady himself. The building before him was old and decrepit, believed to house prisoners long ago. Now, it stood as a testament to the secrets it held within its walls.

John stepped out of the car, the weight of his resolve grounding him. The building loomed ahead, its entrance shrouded in shadows. As he neared the door, Grace's cries reached his ears, each sob a dagger to his heart.

"Hang on, Grace," he muttered under his breath, his fists clenching with renewed purpose.

John reached the door, finding it firmly closed. He pulled out his phone and dialled the number again. This time, the voice answered immediately.

"Hello... It's John," he said, his voice a mix of controlled fury and determination. "Open the door."

"Okay, just a minute," the voice replied, its tone smug.

John waited, his pulse pounding in his ears, his mind focused on one thing only—getting Grace out safely. He could hear the faint sounds of movement behind the door, each second stretching into an eternity as he prepared for whatever lay ahead.

The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit hallway. John stepped inside, the shadows swallowing him whole. As he advanced, the tension coiled within him like a spring, ready to unleash its wrath on those who dared harm Grace.

The air was thick with anticipation, the promise of confrontation hanging heavy. John's senses were heightened, every nerve on edge as he navigated the corridors, following the sound of Grace's cries.

As he turned a corner, he came face to face with one of the goons, a smirk plastered across the thug's face. "You must be John," the goon said, cracking his knuckles.

John's eyes burned with a fierce determination. "You have no idea what you've just started," he replied, his voice a low growl.

With a final, decisive blow, the goon crumpled to the floor, unconscious. John stood over him, his breath coming in heavy gasps, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

He continued down the hallway, the sounds of Grace's distress guiding him. At the end of the corridor, he found another door. His heart pounded as he reached for the handle, the culmination of his fears and hopes resting beyond it.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open, ready to face whatever lay on the other side. Grace's safety depended on it, and he would stop at nothing to bring her back.

"Grace!" he called, his voice echoing in the confined space.

His eyes scanned the room, searching for her amidst the chaos. There she was, bound and bruised but alive, her spirit unbroken.

"John," Grace gasped, relief flooding her features as she met his gaze.

But just as he moved to free her, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind, a new threat closing in, and John knew the fight was far from over.

He turned, ready to face whatever came next, his determination unwavering, the stakes higher than ever. The battle for Grace—and for their future—had only just begun.

In a single minute as he was trying to wipe spots of blood from Grace's face who was helpless, John was hit from the back on the head. Actually, John felt unconscious and lost focus on the gangs.

One of them shouted, " Bring the robes and that axe, he is down."

Suddenly, just as John laid on the floor helplessly, a voice of the system echoed into his mind as many system prompts formed in front of him. Was the system coming to help John it's Host?

[Ding!...

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