"Yes, boss," they all chorused in unison, their postures snapping into sharp, disciplined attention like soldiers called to war.
"And you're not exempted, Mr. Manager," Maxwell snarled, waving his pistol at the trembling man. "Now get moving before I blow a bullet into your fucking skull."
He made the manager walk in front while he aimed his pistol at the back of his head.
A few minutes later, Maxwell stormed toward the reception area, his boots thudding heavily against the tiled floor. Each step he took radiated fury. Palmer following behind struggled to keep up, sweat forming on his brow.
"I warned you all to keep your eyes wide open and your senses on high alert. So what the hell were you doing while I was away?" Maxwell bellowed the moment he entered the lobby. The security guards who had been held at gunpoint earlier were still frozen in fear, their weapons lowered.
The reception area, though spacious and sleek with polished marble floors and muted lighting, felt like a war zone under Maxwell's presence. He paced about like a lion in a cage, ignoring the head of security slumped against the wall. The man's uniform was soaked in blood, his face drained of all color. Even his groaned had reduced to inadubilbe whimpers.
"If the men I personally selected, the ones I trusted with my life, could be fooled by a basic disguise that I saw through in a blurry CCTV clip, then how the hell can I trust you with my life?" Maxwell seethed. His bloodshot eyes scanned each of their faces. They settled on Palmer, then shifted to Zion, who immediately lowered his gaze to the floor.
The room fell into suffocating silence. The men who had failed to keep Rebecca under watch didn't dare speak. They were well aware one wrong word, one misstep could earn them a bullet to the skull.
"You said a cab dropped her off," Maxwell said, his voice quieter now but carrying a sharper edge. "Did anyone reach out to the driver? Try to trace the payment? Get a bank detail, anything, to give us a lead?" He paused in his tracks, his gaze darted from one man's face to the other.
Palmer's shoulders tensed, his head lowered slightly. "We tried. Tracked him down right after she vanished from the hotel last night. But he said the woman we're searching for paid in cash."
"Of course she did," Maxwell muttered, his jaw clenching. "Another fucking dead end."
He ran a hand through his hair and let out a bitter chuckle. "Should I be impressed, Jennie? Should I clap for you for being such a good student? Or should I hate myself for teaching you so well?"
Just then, his attention shifted toward the tall, brown double doors at the entrance of the hotel. His eyes narrowed.
"And why the hell are the police who were called earlier still not here?" he barked. "What kind of pathetic, snail-paced response is this?"
Carlos cleared his throat. "They should be here any minute," he replied.
Before Maxwell could respond, the hotel manager decided to try his luck. He moved a few steps forward from his position.
"If you agree to leave quietly," the hotel manager interrupted, trying to steady his trembling voice, "I'll tell the police this was a misunderstanding. I'll make sure you're not arrested for what happened here."
Maxwell turned to face him slowly. His eyes narrowed with disgust.
"Would you look at this piece of trash," he muttered. "Trying to strike a deal when he should be crawling on his knees, begging for mercy."
The manager dropped his head immediately, trembling even harder.
"Zion," Maxwell said, turning away, "you're in charge now. Make sure this child-trafficking piece of trash is arrested. I want this entire hotel shut down within twenty-four hours."
"Yes, sir," Zion replied fiercely, like a soldier receiving orders from his superior.
"The evidence is all on their CCTV footage. As for the injured man…" Maxwell paused, his tone turning colder, "I trust you know exactly what to tell the police."
"Sir…" Maxwell cut in the hotel manager before he could say a word.
"If anyone tries to run or cause a scene, shoot them in the head. I'll handle the consequences."
Maxwell didn't look back at the kneeling manager. He simply lifted his hand and gestured toward the exit.
"Everyone else, except Zion and his three men, follow me."
The others obeyed without hesitation, following him out of the building. Silence settled behind them like a heavy fog.
As soon as Maxwell stepped outside, the manager, desperate to avoid arrest, tried one last time to save himself. He leaned close to Zion and whispered an offer… money, a large sum, if Zion would simply look the other way.
Zion remained still. His eyes were locked ahead, his expression cold and unreadable. He gave no reply.
Minutes later, the whine of approaching sirens echoed across the block, growing louder as several police vans pulled up in front of Longrich Hotel.
Within two hours, Maxwell had mobilized his men across every corner of Flora City.
He could have made the search loud and public. He could have called in favors, alerted the media, and plastered her face across the city. But he didn't.
That wasn't how he operated. If his enemies found her first, it would be over.
And Maxwell never gambled unless he was sure he would win.