Chapter 11: The Safehouse
Chapter 11: The Safehouse
I didn't slow down until we were miles away from the city center. I drove straight to an abandoned industrial park on the desolate edge of the city—a secure, empty warehouse property my logistics firm had recently acquired, strictly off the grid and unlisted in public records.
Pulling the battered SUV deep into the shadows of a loading dock, I ushered the children out. I quickly set up a makeshift refuge for Lucas and Mia inside a reinforced, windowless security office in the center of the warehouse. I handed them my iPad, fully loaded with offline movies, and placed the peculiar blue birdhouse—a device far more complicated than it looked—on the desk between them.
"Mommy has to go fix Grandpa's party," I told them. I knelt to their eye level, forcing my hands to stop trembling, keeping my voice perfectly steady despite the toxic cocktail of adrenaline and fear pumping through my veins.
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"Are you going to yell at Aunt Diane?" Lucas asked, his voice trembling, his dark eyes wide in the pale beam of my tactical flashlight.
"No, buddy," I whispered, forcing a reassuring smile. I stood up, reaching into the SUV's hidden console and wrapping my fingers around the cold, familiar steel of a 9mm Glock. I checked the chamber, the mechanical click-clack echoing sharply in the quiet room, before sliding it into my jacket pocket. "I'm just going to cancel the reservation. Lock this door when I close it, and do not open it for anyone but me."
