Benjamin paced his office, his phone pressed to his ear. His calm demeanor was gone, replaced by a storm of barely contained fury.
"You let her out of your sight?" he growled, his voice sharp enough to cut glass.
Gregory's voice crackled on the other end. "I didn't have a choice. Moriarti's men were already inside the perimeter. We had to move fast, but... I failed."
Benjamin clenched his jaw, his free hand curling into a fist. "Find out where they've taken her. I don't care what it takes. Every resource, every informant—we're not stopping until she's back."
He hung up, his thoughts a whirlwind of rage and worry. Moriarti had crossed a line, and this time, there would be no mercy.
A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. It was Gregory, looking haggard and remorseful.
"I have a lead," Gregory said, handing Benjamin a tablet with a map displayed on the screen. "One of our sources says Moriarti's been using an old warehouse on the outskirts of the city."
Benjamin studied the map, his eyes narrowing. "If Clara's there, we'll need to move fast. Assemble the team. Tonight, we finish this."
Gregory hesitated. "Are you sure about this, Benjamin? Moriarti will be expecting you. It could be a trap."
"It is a trap," Benjamin said coldly. "But that doesn't matter. Clara's safety is the only thing that matters."
The warehouse was dark and foreboding, its metal exterior rusted and covered in graffiti. Benjamin's men moved with precision, their weapons drawn as they surrounded the building.
Inside, Clara sat on the edge of the bed, her nerves fraying. The faint sound of footsteps echoed outside the door, and she tensed, wondering if it was Moriarti or one of his men.
Suddenly, the lights flickered, and the hum of electricity cut out. Darkness enveloped the room, broken only by the distant sound of gunfire.
Clara's heart raced. She had no idea what was happening, but instinct told her that Benjamin was close.
Moments later, the door burst open, and a figure stepped inside. Clara squinted, her eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the hallway.
"Clara," Benjamin's voice called out, firm yet gentle.
Relief flooded her as she rushed toward him. He pulled her into his arms, his hold protective and unyielding.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low but urgent.
"I'm fine," she replied, her voice trembling. "But you—"
"No time," Benjamin interrupted, his eyes scanning the room. "We need to get out of here before Moriarti realizes what's happening."
As they stepped into the hallway, the chaos outside grew louder. Benjamin's men were locked in a fierce battle with Moriarti's forces, the air thick with tension and smoke.
Benjamin led Clara through the maze of corridors, his grip on her hand never faltering. Every now and then, he paused to check for threats, his movements swift and precise.
Finally, they reached the exit, where Gregory was waiting with a getaway car.
"Get her out of here," Benjamin ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Clara turned to him, her eyes wide with concern. "What about you?"
"I'll finish this," Benjamin said, his voice resolute. "Go with Gregory. You'll be safe with him."
Clara hesitated, but Gregory gently ushered her into the car. As they sped away, she couldn't help but look back, her heart heavy with worry for the man who had risked everything to save her.