Chapter 5

Madeline's grip tightened around Hugo's collar, her nails pressing into his skin. Her eyes blazed red, her wolf fighting to break free.

 The primal instinct to rip him apart surged through her veins, but she forced herself to maintain control.

"You're choking me," Hugo gasped, struggling to breathe. "I swear—I had nothing to do with Ivan's kidnapping!"

Madeline's jaw clenched, her breath heavy. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because I have proof," he rasped, pointing to his pocket. "A picture of the vehicle's plate number. I saw two men take him. I don't know who they were, but I knew something wasn't right, so I took a picture. Please… just let me go, and I'll show you."

She hesitated, her grip loosening slightly. "Have you told anyone else?"

"No. You're the first person," he assured her. "I know how dangerous this information is. I wouldn't risk it falling into the wrong hands."

Madeline narrowed her eyes before finally releasing him. Hugo coughed, rubbing his sore throat, then pulled out his phone.

"Here," he said, showing her the blurry but readable image of a black SUV with an out-of-state license plate.

 "We need to track this plate number. It's the only lead we have."

"I have a friend who can help," Hugo offered. "He's good with this kind of thing."

"How long?" she asked impatiently.

"Twenty-four hours, maybe less," he promised.

"That's too long!" she snapped, frustration making her voice crack.

"I'll push him to hurry," Hugo reassured.

Madeline's hands trembled as she crossed her arms. "Fine. My son is worth the wait. I just pray this plate number leads us to him."

"Me too," Hugo murmured as she walked him to the door.

---

Nightfall came too soon. The shadows stretched long, consuming the streets with a stillness. Inside her home, Madeline sat curled up on the couch, gripping Ivan's passport photograph.

"Oh, my Ivan," she whispered, pressing the image to her chest. "Come back to Mama."

She imagined him running through the front door, his voice ringing with laughter. Mom, it was all a prank. I wasn't really taken.

But the walls remained silent. Reality crashed down on her again, sending fresh tears spilling over her cheeks.

Her mind drifted to Domenico. The very idea of going to him made her stomach churn with disgust. He was a monster. A man she had vowed never to see again.

But he's also the only one who can help.

She wiped her eyes roughly. She'd rather rip out her own heart than beg him for anything. But if it meant saving Ivan, she would crawl if she had to.

Her body ached from exhaustion, but sleep was impossible. It wasn't until the weight of her grief pulled her under that she finally drifted into a restless slumber.

---

The next morning, for a brief, blissful second, she forgot everything.

Then reality slammed into her like a brick wall.

Madeline bolted upright. "Ivan! He's going to be late for school!" she shouted instinctively, rushing toward his room—only to stop mid-step.

Her stomach twisted. Ivan wasn't here.

The grief hit her like a fresh wound, but she had no time to mourn. A loud buzz from her phone snapped her out of it.

She grabbed it, her heart sinking as she saw the name flashing across the screen.

Marcus.

"If you don't show up at the office this morning, kiss your job goodbye," his voice rang through the speaker before abruptly cutting off.

Madeline clenched her fists. "How do I explain that my son was kidnapped?" she muttered.

She dialed him back, but there was no answer. He was angry—probably furious that she had skipped work yesterday without notice.

She groaned. She needed this job. Not just for money, but to keep some semblance of stability.

"What if Hugo comes and I'm not here?" The thought made her heart race.

But waiting at home wasn't an option. She needed funds if a ransom demand came in.

God, why does everything have to be so damn complicated?

With gritted teeth, she rushed through a quick shower, dressed, and grabbed her keys.

She wasn't ready for the confrontation waiting for her at work, but she had no choice.

---

At the office, Madeline sat frozen in her car, gripping the steering wheel.

Marcus could fire me. He could dock my pay. He could…

 Get it together, Madeline.

Steeling herself, she pushed open the door and walked in.

"Hey, girl! You vanished yesterday!" her colleague greeted her.

Madeline forced a weak smile. "I'll explain later. Is Marcus in?"

"Yeah. Want me to—"

"I'll handle it," she interrupted, already walking toward his office.

The moment she stepped inside, she dropped to her knees. "Marcus, please—"

"Go home," he said, not looking up from his computer.

She blinked. "What?"

"You have four weeks to sort yourself out," he repeated. "You'll still get paid. Good luck finding your son."

Madeline stared at him, stunned.

Marcus never did favors. He never gave second chances.

"Go," he said sharply. "Before I change my mind."

She scrambled to her feet. "Thank you, Marcus. You have no idea what this means to me."

He didn't respond.

Madeline didn't wait for him to reconsider. She practically ran out of the office.

---

By the time she pulled into her driveway, Hugo was already waiting outside.

She jumped out of the car. "You're early."

Hugo's expression was grim.

Her stomach dropped. "What's wrong? Did you track the plate?"

He shook his head. "No. The number was deactivated. They covered their tracks."

Madeline clenched her fists. "Damn it!"

 "They won't get away with this." His frustration was evident, but it wasn't just about failing her. There was something deeper in his voice—something personal.

Madeline eyed him carefully. "Why do you care so much?"

Hugo hesitated. "Because no one should have to go through this alone."

For a brief moment, she saw something in his eyes—a flicker of old pain.

But she didn't have time to unpack it.

"So what now?" she asked.

Hugo's jaw tightened. "We need another plan."

She took a slow, measured breath. The words tasted like poison in her mouth.

"We have one option left," she admitted.

"Which is?"

Madeline hesitated, every fiber of her being resisting the words. Then, finally, she forced them out.

"Domenico."

Hugo frowned. "Who's that?"

She swallowed hard. "He's… someone I swore never to see again."

His eyes darkened with suspicion. "You trust him?"

"I hate him," she said, her voice cold as ice. "But he's the only one powerful enough to find my son."

Hugo studied her carefully. "Then do you want me to come with you?"

She hesitated.

A part of her wanted to refuse. This was her battle.

But another part—the broken, desperate mother—wanted someone by her side.

"I need to make a call first," she murmured, heading toward her neighbor's apartment.

As she knocked on Catherine's door, her stomach twisted.

Going to Domenico meant facing the past she I buried.

But there was no other choice.

For Ivan… she would do anything.

Even if it meant walking back into the devil's den.