Kidnapping the Mafia Prince's Heiress!Chapter 1: Saved Me, Please!

“H-Help me! I'm k-kidnapped…”

The voice on the other end of the call trembled with fear. I froze, my fingers hovering over the keyboard as I processed what I had just heard. It wasn’t just any distress call. It was Mae.

My heart pounded violently in my chest, but I kept my voice steady. “Ma’am, stay on the line with me. Can you tell me your location?”

I didn’t reveal who I was. If Mae realized I was her stepsister, she would break down, say her goodbyes, and lose whatever sliver of strength she had left. I needed her to hold on. I needed her to fight.

She sniffled. “I-I don’t know. It’s dark, and I—”

Her breath hitched. My fingers flew over the keyboard as I pulled up the call’s metadata, attempting to trace the origin. I activated the GPS tracking system, my eyes darting over the numbers and coordinates rapidly appearing on my screen. The location was coming through—slowly but surely.

Almost there. Just a few more seconds.

I typed in commands, my pulse matching the frantic rhythm of my thoughts. Latitude and longitude locked in. A rural area, deep in the outskirts of the city.

“Mae, listen to me. I need you to stay quiet but keep talking to me. Anything you hear, anything you see—describe it.”

“I—I hear footsteps,” she whimpered. “Please… please tell my family I love them.”

No. No, no, no.

I clenched my jaw, refusing to let the panic seep into my voice. “Mae, don’t say that. We’re getting you out of there.”

A loud noise came through the call—shuffling, a muffled scream. Then silence.

The line went dead.

“No!” I gasped, slamming my hand against the desk. The tracking window blinked before disappearing. We lost all the data. The trace was gone.

My hands trembled as I desperately tried to recover the lost information, but it was useless. Whoever had taken Mae had severed the call at the worst possible moment. I squeezed my eyes shut, my breath hitching in my throat. Was she still alive? Had I just listened to her final words?

Tears welled up in my eyes, but before they could spill, my phone rang again. Another unknown number.

I inhaled sharply, forcing myself to switch back into professional mode. I swallowed my fear and picked up.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

A low chuckle echoed through the receiver, slow and deliberate. My stomach twisted.

That laugh.