Ultimate Choice System: I Became The Richest!

29  Damsel In distress (3)

Fifteen minutes later, the police finally arrived, lights flashing and sirens wailing as they pulled up to the scene. People watched in anxious silence as a sleek patrol car came to a stop.

Out of the car stepped a strikingly beautiful policewoman, her features sharp and her shoulder-length hair tied back with precision. There was a sense of authority and confidence in the way she moved, yet her expression was calm and professional.

The officer's nameplate gleamed under the setting sun: Staff Sergeant Rachel Miller. She scanned the crowd briefly before stepping forward, her voice clear and assertive as she addressed the bystanders.

"Alright, I need everyone's attention! We need details—now. Start from the beginning. What exactly happened?"

The crowd shifted nervously before the young man who had made the call stepped forward. "There was a van, a black one. Three men jumped out, grabbed the woman, and then sped off—just like that. It was so fast, no one had time to react."

Staff Sergeant Miller nodded, her brow furrowing slightly. "Can anyone describe the woman who was taken?"

A few witnesses exchanged glances, and then a middle-aged woman with a trembling voice spoke up. "She was... she was beautiful, like some kind of movie star. Pale skin, long hair, wearing sunglasses even though the sun wasn't bright. She had on a Tailored dress."

Rachel's heart skipped a beat, her professional mask slipping for just a fraction of a second.

The description tugged at her memory, and an unsettling suspicion began to form in her mind.

"Could it be...?"

No, she couldn't jump to conclusions. She needed more information. "Did anyone hear her name, or see where they went?"

Another voice piped up, "No name, but they went west, down Brookview. They didn't have any license plates. It was fast—like they knew what they were doing."

Rachel's eyes narrowed as she processed the information. Her gut feeling told her this wasn't just a random abduction.

"The woman they described... she could be her."

But before she could dwell on it further, a male officer approached her with a serious look on his face.

"Staff Sergeant, we found this near the scene. It appears to belong to the victim."

He handed over a designer handbag, and the moment Rachel's eyes fell on it, her suspicion solidified into certainty. Her fingers tightened around the strap as she opened it briefly, recognizing the contents immediately.

Her heart raced. "Amelia..." she muttered under her breath, barely audible. She shut the bag quickly, her mind racing through every protocol she had been trained for, but the stakes were now impossibly higher.

This wasn't just any victim—this was her best friend, Amelia. And Amelia wasn't just an ordinary citizen; her background made this abduction far more dangerous than any other case.

Without wasting a moment, Rachel straightened up, her voice cold and commanding as she gave rapid-fire orders to her team. "Lock down all major exits from the city. I want every patrol car in a ten-mile radius on high alert. Set up roadblocks at every intersection along Brookview. No one gets out. Deploy drones if you have to."

The officers around her nodded and sprang into action, their radios crackling with activity as they relayed her commands. One officer quickly ran back to his car, already calling for reinforcements.

Rachel's chest tightened with dread. She didn't ramp up the efforts just because Amelia was her best friend, but because Amelia's abduction could have massive consequences given her connections.

She was involved in high-stakes business, with people who had power and influence far beyond this city. If the wrong people were behind this, it wasn't just a simple kidnapping—they were playing with fire.

Turning to the young officer beside her, Rachel's voice was low but urgent. "We need to find her. And fast."

An hour had passed since the abduction, and the van had already made its way to the outskirts of Birmingham. The road was desolate, bordered by empty fields and distant hills, with no signs of life for miles.

The setting sun cast long shadows across the barren landscape, making the scene feel even more isolated. There wasn't a car or pedestrian in sight, just the low hum of the van's engine and the rhythmic thumping of its tyres against the cracked asphalt.

Inside the van, four men occupied the vehicle: one behind the wheel, a second in the passenger seat, and two in the back, sitting across from Amelia, who was bound and gagged.

Her eyes were wide with fear, her breaths shallow as she glanced nervously at the men who occasionally cast leering looks in her direction.

The man in the passenger seat, a gruff individual with a shaved head, let out a low whistle as his eyes shifted to the rearview mirror, catching Amelia's reflection. "Damn, she's a looker, ain't she?" he muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Can't believe we're just sittin' here like this. We could be havin' some fun with her right now."

17:37

The man next to Amelia, a lanky guy with tattoos snaking up his arms, snorted in agreement. "Yeah, I don't see why we're waiting. Look at her, man. She's trembling. Makes it even better, doesn't it?"

The driver, a burly man with a cold expression, shot a glance back at them. "Cut it out."

But the tattooed man grinned, leaning in closer to Amelia, his breath hot and foul. "C'mon, boss, just a touch. No harm in that, right? She's not gonna remember anything after tonight anyway."

The leader, the man in the driver's seat, glared at him through the mirror. His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. "Don't be an idiot. The guy who hired us? He's got plans for her, and if we mess with his 'property' before he gets his turn, we're as good as dead. We touch her, and he finds out. We won't see a penny."

Tattoo Guy leaned back reluctantly, muttering under his breath. "Yeah, but—just a touch. It's not like—"

"I said no!" the leader snapped, his voice filled with authority and warning. "Listen to me. You wait until we've got the money. After that, we can spend it on all the girls you want. Not just one. Think about it."

The man grumbled but eventually nodded, his lecherous gaze lingering on Amelia for a moment longer before he turned his attention to the front. The van was silent again, save for the occasional bump in the road.

Just then, something caught the passenger's attention. "Hey, that motorcycle..."

"What about it?" the leader asked, not bothering to turn his head.

The passenger frowned, leaning closer to the window. "I swear I've seen it behind us for a while now. You think he's following us?"

The leader shook his head, chuckling under his breath. "Nah, it's just some random guy. He disappears and reappears from different streets. No one could be keeping track of us on these roads. It's impossible."

The others nodded, reassured by their leader's confidence, though the passenger kept his eyes on the bike.

Moments later, the motorcycle zoomed past them, and for a split second, everything seemed fine. But then it started to wobble violently, the front wheel shaking uncontrollably in what was known as a death wobble.

The bike swayed left and right, the rider struggling to maintain control as the vehicle jerked back and forth.

The tattooed guy in the back laughed, nudging the man beside him. "Look at that idiot! He's dead for sure."

Even the leader cracked a smirk, his eyes flicking to the side mirror. "Won't have to worry about him followin' us now. He's gonna wipe out any second."

But instead of crashing, the rider managed to hold on for what felt like an eternity. The motorcycle twisted and lurched, and finally, with a loud screech, it slid sideways across the asphalt, skidding to a stop right in front of the van, blocking the road completely.

"Shit!" the leader cursed, slamming the brakes as the van screeched to a halt just inches away from the downed motorcycle. The group inside lurched forward with the sudden stop, each of them cursing under their breath.

The driver growled, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel. "One of you get out and move him. We don't have time for this!"

As the man stepped out of the van, he immediately noticed that Noah's crash wasn't nearly as bad as it first appeared. n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

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