CHAPTER 158
SKYLAR'S POV
The Swiss Federal Police had me sitting in the back of an armored vehicle, handcuffed and under guard while they tried to sort out what exactly had happened at the monastery. Through the bulletproof windows, I could see Henry talking earnestly with a Swiss official, his distinguished appearance and calm demeanor making him look like exactly what he was claiming to be - a concerned grandfather trying to rescue his pregnant granddaughter from international criminals.
"Ms. Mitchell," the Swiss officer sitting across from me said in careful English, "we need you to explain your version of events."
"My version is simple. Henry Mitchell is a human trafficker who kidnapped fifteen children to force me to surrender myself. My team and I conducted a rescue operation to save those children."
"Mr. Mitchell claims that you and your associates have been holding him granddaughter against her will, using your position with the United Nations as cover for criminal activities."
I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, but the officer's serious expression told me that Henry's story was gaining traction. He'd positioned himself perfectly - the respectable elderly gentleman versus the heavily armed young woman who'd just blown up a historic monastery.
"Did Mr. Mitchell mention that he's wanted by Interpol for questioning in connection with seventeen trafficking investigations across four continents?"
"He provided documentation suggesting those charges were fabricated by corrupt officials you've been bribing."
Of course he had. Henry had been planning this operation for months, maybe years. He'd probably prepared false evidence, bribed officials, created an entire alternative narrative that painted me as the real criminal.
My earpiece crackled with Harry's voice, barely audible through the static. "Skylar, we've got the kids to safety, but we're pinned down about half a kilometer from your position. Swiss forces have the area locked down."
I couldn't respond without alerting my captors to the communication device, but knowing the guys and the children were safe gave me the first real hope I'd felt since this nightmare began.
"Ms. Mitchell," the officer continued, "given your current condition and the seriousness of these allegations, we're going to transfer you to a secure medical facility for evaluation."
"What kind of evaluation?"
"Physical examination to ensure the welfare of your unborn child, psychological assessment to determine your mental state, and a full investigation into your activities over the past six months."
My blood ran cold. If they put me into the Swiss medical system for evaluation, it could take weeks to sort out the truth. And in the meantime, Henry would have ample opportunity to disappear with the evidence of his crimes or to position himself as my legal guardian.
"I want to speak with my UN liaison immediately," I said. "I have diplomatic immunity as an international law enforcement coordinator."
"Mr. Mitchell has provided evidence suggesting that position was obtained through fraudulent means."
The officer showed me a tablet displaying what looked like official UN documents, all bearing stamps and signatures that suggested my appointment had been revoked due to criminal conduct. The forgeries were professional grade, convincing enough that even I might have believed them if I didn't know better.
"He's had months to prepare this," I said quietly.
"Prepare what?"
"The perfect frame. Make me look like the criminal while positioning himself as the victim. It's exactly the kind of psychological manipulation his family specializes in."
Through the vehicle's window, I could see Henry approaching with two Swiss officials and what looked like a medical team. His expression was perfectly crafted - concerned grandfather mixed with reluctant determination to do what was necessary for family.
"Ms. Mitchell," the officer said, "we're going to transfer you to the medical facility now. For your own safety and the safety of your child."
"What about my team?"
"They'll be detained for questioning once we locate them."
As the vehicle began moving through the Swiss countryside, I realized that Henry had achieved exactly what he'd set out to do. He'd separated me from my protection, discredited my authority, and positioned himself to claim legal custody of both me and our unborn daughter.
But he'd made one critical error in his planning.
He'd assumed that being pregnant would make me more compliant, more willing to accept defeat rather than risk harm to my child. Instead, the thought of my daughter growing up under Henry's influence made me absolutely desperate.
"Officer," I said carefully, "there's something you need to know about the man claiming to be my grandfather."
"Yes?"
"He's not just trying to rescue me. He's trying to acquire my unborn child for very specific purposes."
"What kind of purposes?"
I looked directly into his eyes, letting him see the desperation and determination warring in my expression. "The kind that involve raising children to become the next generation of human traffickers."
"That's a very serious accusation."
"It's also true. And if you deliver me to him, you'll be an accessory to child endangerment at minimum."
The officer was quiet for a moment, clearly wrestling with competing versions of the truth. Finally, he spoke into his radio in rapid German that I couldn't quite follow.
"What did you just do?" I asked.
"I requested additional verification of Mr. Mitchell's identity and legal status. If what you're saying is true, there should be international warrants or intelligence alerts in the system."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. If the verification supports his story instead of yours, you'll be turned over to his custody immediately."
My earpiece crackled again, this time with Lucas's voice. "Skylar, we've made contact with UN Security. They're sending a diplomatic team to intercede, but it'll take six hours minimum."
Six hours. Henry only needed thirty minutes to disappear with me into whatever extraction network he'd prepared.
"There's one more thing," I said to the Swiss officer. "The communication device in my ear - my team is monitoring this conversation. They're also recording it as evidence of what's really happening here."
"You're wearing a wire?"
"I'm wearing a standard UN field communication device. Everything that's been said in this vehicle has been transmitted to UN Security in Geneva."
It was a gamble, but I could see doubt creeping into the officer's expression. The possibility that this entire incident was being monitored by international authorities was clearly making him reconsider the situation.
"Driver," he called in English, "change of destination. We're going to UN headquarters in Geneva instead of the medical facility."
"Sir?" the driver responded.
"If Ms. Mitchell truly has diplomatic immunity, this matter needs to be resolved through proper channels."
As the vehicle changed direction, I felt a surge of hope. But through the window, I could see Henry's helicopter matching our course, staying close enough to intervene if necessary.
He wasn't going to let me reach UN headquarters alive.
Which meant the next few minutes would determine whether my daughter grew up free or became another weapon in the Mitchell family arsenal.
And I still had one card left to play.
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