Darius perched high atop the oak, his eyes narrowed as he observed the scene happening below. 
The shadows of four black vans slipped through the iron gates of the mansion, their engines rumbling like distant thunder. Mr. Jaxon emerged from the lead van, being at the center by a group of his men, their movements precise and disciplined.
With a practiced flick of his wrist, Darius reflected a faint beam of light toward Eric, the signal unmistakable to anyone who knew what to look for. The message was clear, Mr. Jaxon had arrived.
Christoff's climbing was nearly silent, but the rustle of leaves and the soft scrape of his boots against bark drew Darius’s attention. He tensed, momentarily startled.
“Damn it, Christoff,” he hissed, trying to keep his voice low enough to avoid detection.
“Wait, what’s happening?” Christoff asked, peering over Darius's shoulder as he settled beside him.
Mr. Jaxon and half of his men disappeared into the mansion’s grand entrance, the heavy wooden doors creaking shut behind them. The remaining guards took up positions outside, their presence a silent promise of vigilance.
Darius’s eyes flicked back to the scene below. “A lot of men got out of Mr. Jaxon’s vans,” he murmured. “He’s got twenty-five men in total. Ten went inside with him, and fifteen are stationed outside.”
Christoff frowned, “Men? What could Mr. Jaxon be planning?”
Darius’s face was etched with concern. “We need to inform Sir Eric immediately. There’s definitely something going down tonight, and we need a plan. Whatever it is, it’s important.”
Christoff nodded in agreement, his expression grim as he prepared to relay the message.
As soon as Mr. Jaxon entered into the mansion, his eyes darted around, searching for Victoria. His frustration grow when he couldn't spot her. With a determined decisive steps, he headed toward his office on the opposite side of the grand estate. His heart raced with anxiety as he approached, only to find the door opened, a detail he hadn't missed when he left earlier. He had been sure about locking it.
“Did someone get in, Mr. Jaxon?” one of his men inquired.
“Shut up!” Mr. Jaxon hissed through clenched teeth, his voice barely above a whisper but overflowing with a dangerous edge.
The man flick back, wisely falling silent.
Mr. Jaxon motioned for his ten men to remain vigilant, their eyes scanning every shadow for signs of trouble. As he carefully pushed open the office door, he scanned the room. Everything appeared in each original position, untouched.
One of his men, the one who had spoken earlier, fumbled with his gun as he stumbled forward, tripping over his own feet.
“Stupid! Watch where you're going!” Mr. Jaxon growled.
The man scrambled to his feet, a nervous sweat forming on his brow. “Stay alert, Mr. Jaxon.”
“If you weren’t so useless, I wouldn’t have hired you in the first place. Go buy a brain!” Mr. Jaxon snapped.
The man’s face reddened with embarrassment. “Mr. Jaxon, where should I buy one?”
Mr. Jaxon inhaled deeply, trying to stave off his growing frustration. “Just get out of here!”
“Should I leave, Mr. Jaxon?”
“Damn it!”
With an intensely irritated sigh, Mr. Jaxon walk slowly over to his chair. His eyes fell on the desk, where he quickly scanned the area for his crucial photos and documents. To his horror, they were gone.
“Dammit! Someone got in here!” he shouted. “Find Victoria right now! She’s definitely still inside the mansion. And that vehicle outside, it's Anthony’s. Move it!”
The men nodded, their faces set in grim determination as they dispersed to search the mansion.
Mr. Jaxon’s gaze was drawn to a knife mark slashed across the wall, a sharp points scar that told of a fight. The small, familiar blade that Victoria always carried lay abandoned on the floor, its shine dulled by dust. The sight left an unsettling chill in his gut, suggesting that something had gone terribly wrong within the confines of the office.
His fists tightened, his knuckles turning white as his jaw clenched with simmering rage. "Victoria knows everything!" he spat, the words laced with frustration and accusation.
One of his men, eyes wide and face pale, approached him hesitantly. “Mr. Jaxon, there seems to be an open, mysterious door in the library.”
“Stupid! It’s just an underground passage!” Mr. Jaxon snapped, irritation crackling in his voice as he pushed past his subordinate. His footsteps were purposeful and urgent as he headed toward the library, each steps fueled by a growing sense of dread.
“Stay here and keep watch!” he ordered.
“Mr. Jaxon, do you want me to come with you?” another of his men called out, concern evident in his tone.
“I said, stay there!” Mr. Jaxon’s command left no room for argument.
He entered into the library, his eyes scanning for the hidden passage. The door he had always kept securely locked was now open, swinging slightly as if in mockery of his attempts to keep secrets at bay. At the end of the dimly lit passage, he saw the scene that both confirmed and shattered his worst fears.
Anthony lay unconscious and injured, crumpled on the floor. Victoria, her face a portrait of anguish, was hunched over a cluttered desk, her hands searching through a chaotic mess of documents and photographs. Her tears stained the pages as she searched desperately for something, anything, that might make sense of the chaos.
Mr. Jaxon moved with calculated precision, each step measured to avoid detection. He closed the door behind Victoria with a soft click, the lock turning with a finality that echoed through the silence. All of his plans have been failed, he won't let the both of them to escape.