The moment Damian stopped speaking, the scar-faced man erupted in grating laughter.
"Why waste words on this woman? If she resists, we'll kill the little girl first."
He raised his pistol with a vicious grin, its dark muzzle aimed directly at Emma in Ethan's arms.
Emma trembled violently from crying, her tiny fingers clutching Ethan's sleeve so tightly her nails nearly pierced the fabric.
Ethan's icy gaze locked onto the assassin.
Fluent in Italian, he understood every word of their threat against Sophia.
The scar-faced man bared his teeth in a grotesque smile.
"If Miss Sullivan cooperates, no harm will come to the child. But if you refuse... don't blame us for being ruthless."
Their orders were clear—this woman possessed extraordinary combat skills. Even unarmed, she could overpower them all.
The priority was to avoid confrontation and transport her away from this location.
Once they reached Sicily, she'd be at their mercy.
To their surprise, Sophia complied without resistance.
"Fine. I'll go with you."
She raised her hands slowly, the picture of docility.
The cramped airplane cabin left no room for fighting without collateral damage. Open terrain would offer better odds.
"Smart choice."
The scar-faced man kicked open the cockpit door, forcing the pilot to make an emergency landing at gunpoint.
As Sophia lifted her hands, her fleeting glance at Ethan conveyed silent understanding.
"No tricks."
Damian, the more cautious one with neck tattoos, swiftly blindfolded Sophia and bound her hands behind her back. The moment the plane touched down, they dragged her away.
......
Police quickly secured the scene, arranging alternate flights for stranded passengers.
By the time Ethan returned to A-City, Emma had collapsed into exhausted sleep—though her clothes were soaked with cold sweat, her body still twitching involuntarily.
"It's alright, Emma. You're safe now."
The private physician entered, paling at Ethan's thunderous expression.
He hadn't witnessed such barely restrained fury emanating from Ethan in years.
"Mr. Sullivan, you must rest. There's still no effective treatment for neuropathic headaches—"
Ethan's voice could freeze hell itself. "I won't collapse until this is resolved. Tend to Emma first."
Beyond Emma's condition, his foremost concern was Sophia's abduction.
He'd deployed investigators the moment they landed, yet no leads had surfaced.
The elderly butler fretted, "Young master, you haven't slept all night. Please rest first?"
"Not now. Watch over Emma. I have urgent matters."
Ethan knew Sophia was being taken to Sicily.
Every second delayed increased her danger.
Though sedated, Emma remained curled in a defensive ball at the bed's corner, fingers spasming intermittently.
Her vacant eyes turned feral at any approach—biting, kicking, screaming—her condition markedly worse than before.
The butler's heart ached.
"Master, the gunshots traumatized Emma. I'll care for her. You must rescue Miss Sullivan."
He'd learned Sophia's surrender saved every passenger aboard.
Ethan forced calm, kneeling to clasp Emma's ice-cold hands with solemn intensity.
"I promise to bring Sophia back."
Though Emma remained mute and coiled tight, silent tears streaked her cheeks.