OLIVIA
Most of my day was dull without Drake at the office to keep me busy. He left for New Mexico to present Lovelace at Tech Wars, an annual competition that pitted a dozen tech companies against each other. This year, there was a focus on militarized weapons, Drake’s specialty.
Around dinnertime, I was still at Battle Industries headquarters, preparing for a big meeting in the morning, when a loud noise sounded above my head. An explosion echoed throughout the building.
I didn’t know what to do.
My hand trembled as I grabbed my cell phone and hid under the desk just in case shit started falling off the walls.
I dialed Drake.
Straight to voicemail.
His phone was always on. Drake wasn’t one of those guys who made excuses about losing a phone charger or not having service. He used satellite phones and had backup batteries hidden everywhere.
I tried Tate’s number.
Same result.
I slid out from under the desk, clutching my cell phone, and headed into the hallway. Cole Marshall was usually in the office at this late hour. Drake’s cousin had special authorization and would know what to do.
As I exited my office, a woman’s voice floated through the loudspeakers, “Activating Battle King Protocol.”
No, no, no…
Drake had warned me that if I ever heard Lovelace announce the Battle King Protocol, it meant he was in danger, which meant my brother was too. I texted him twenty minutes ago. They were en route to the airport.
I had to find Cole.
Drake had told me that if Lovelace locked down his corporate offices and homes, his cousin was the only person other than Tate with access to override the system.
“Initiating sequence in five, four,” Lovelace said over the speaker.
I darted toward the elevator bank, but when I hit the button on the wall, it didn’t light up.
The power was off.
“Three, two, one,” Lovelace continued.
Metal bars inched down from the ceiling, trapping the employees inside offices and conference rooms. People screamed and banged on the glass, begging for help. Executives had access to top-secret information. I assumed the bars were a precaution so no one could torture the information out of them.
I rushed past dozens of people in the hallway, all frantic and panicked. Some halted in place, unsure what to do, awaiting further instructions from Lovelace.
Hurrying past my co-workers, I headed toward the back stairwell. But a beep sounded over the intercom, and then thick layers of bulletproof glass slid down from the ceiling, sealing off the balconies of each floor.
I glanced down at the ground floor. At least a hundred armed men dressed in battle gear carried machine guns, ready for war.
My arms dotted with tiny bumps as fear shook through me. I yanked on the stairwell door and almost fell on my ass. Stumbling backward, I staggered into a hard chest.
“Oh, thank God,” Cole said in a deep tone. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Liv. Come with me. The elevators are on lockdown. Only my keycard will work.”
Cole grabbed my arm and pulled me toward Drake’s private elevator. He jammed his keycard into the slot on the wall to open the doors, and we snuck inside.
I peeked up at Cole. “Is Drake okay?”
He rolled his broad shoulders. “I don’t know. No one can get him on the phone. But if Drake activated this protocol, he’s been kidnapped.”
“By whom?”
