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“Inspector Lyle,” he beckoned, motioning toward the far end of the room where a figure leaned heavily against the mahogany paneling.
The inspector approached, his gait labored from the day’s exertions. “Theodore, what is it?”
“Sir, there’s a matter that requires our immediate attention.” Theodore’s gaze held a steely determination beneath the veneer of calm.
“Speak plainly,” Lyle urged, sensing the gravity in Theodore’s tone.
“I think that man knows more about Nicole’s whereabouts than the rest of us,” Theodore revealed, indicating a man seated in the corner, his uniform disheveled, his eyes haunted by the specter of recent events.
“Officer Beckwith,” Lyle addressed the man, his voice brooking no dissent. “We are aware of your involvement in this treasonous mess. We need you to tell us where Nicole is being held, and we need to know soon.”
Beckwith looked up, the pallor of his skin accentuated by the stark lighting overhead. “She’s hidden away—safe, for now—in an old farmhouse on the outskirts of the Fenwick estate. But time is of the essence. They plan to move her at nightfall.”
“Can you take us there?” Theodore interjected, his thoughts racing with the urgency of the moment.
“Y-yes,” the officer stammered, standing with a newfound sense of purpose. “I’ll lead the way.”
As they prepared to depart, Theodore took a moment to steel himself against the tumult of emotions surging within. Nicole’s fate hung in the balance, and he could ill afford the luxury of doubt. With every fiber of his being, he vowed to bring her home.
“We need to be quick,” Theodore said. “We have to get her back.”
The pandemonium of the precinct was a stark contrast to the stately calm that typically pervaded its walls. Officers hustled past with grim determination, escorting a line of handcuffed individuals whose downcast eyes avoided the scrutiny of their captors. Among them were influential merchants and minor nobles, all linked by their association with Christopher’s nefarious scheme.
“Please, I have information that could be crucial,” one of the arrested whispered urgently to an officer, his voice trembling with the prospect of leniency. “I can testify against the Marquis.”
“Get in line,” the officer replied. “Seems everyone’s singing the same tune today.”
“Let’s move out,” Lyle called over the din, his voice cutting clear across the room.
“Lead the way, Beckwith,” Theodore prompted, his tone resolute as they followed the disgraced officer out into the chill of the evening air.
Together with Inspector Lyle, Theodore got into one of the unmarked police cars, and went to liberate Nicole. The road unfurled before them like a ribbon through the dusky countryside, leading them inexorably toward destiny’s grasp.
The old farmhouse loomed ahead, a spectral figure against the twilight sky. Its windows were dark, its form hunched as if bearing the weight of untold secrets. They disembarked with quiet efficiency, the officers fanning out to surround the building.
“Nicole is in there,” Beckwith said, pointing to an upper window where a faint light flickered. “But you must be careful. They’re likely armed.”
“Understood,” Lyle nodded, motioning for his men to take position. “Stay behind me, Prince Theodore. This is still a police matter.”
“Of course,” Theodore agreed, though every instinct screamed for him to lead the charge. But it would do the monarchy no good if they were to lose the second in line to the throne.
With stealthy precision, the officers breached the entrance. Theodore’s pulse quickened as he stepped into the gloom, his senses heightened to every creak of the aging floorboards. His eyes adjusted, taking in the musty expanse of the farmhouse’s interior.
“Clear!” came the call from the ground floor, the word echoing throughout the cavernous space.
“Upstairs,” Lyle commanded, his voice low and certain. They ascended the staircase, the wood groaning beneath their collective weight.
“Nicole,” Theodore whispered under his breath, a talisman against the dread that clawed at his chest.
“Clear!” The second affirmation rang out just as they reached the top floor, revealing a scene that halted Theodore in his tracks.
There, they found Nicole—bound but unbroken, her head lifting as the door swung open.
“Nicole!” Theodore exclaimed, rushing forward as the officers began to untie her.
“Thank God,” she breathed, her voice laced with relief and disbelief. “I knew you’d come.”
“Always,” he vowed, his words underscored by the fierce beating of his heart.
