Chapter 3 - Safe House Down
The rain over the Blue Ridge Mountains fell in relentless, heavy sheets, beating against the metal roof of the tactical safe house outside Asheville. Inside, the only light came from the blue glow of monitors and the amber warmth of a small wood stove.
Emily sat at the heavy oak table, wrapped in my olive-drab field jacket. Her swelling had begun to recede, revealing sharp, determined features that reminded me so much of her father before he passed.
"They won't just come with lawyers this time, will they, Mom?" she asked, her voice steady despite the dark circles under her eyes.
"No," I replied, stripping down a tactical sidearm on the workbench. "When people like Richard Prescott realize their money can't buy silence, they fall back on force. But force is a language I speak far better than they do."
Agent Vance entered from the back room, his satellite phone secured to his belt. His expression was grim. "Pemberton is making his move in Washington. He’s invoked national security protocols to seize all federal digital assets related to the Prescott Global investigation. In two hours, our DOJ warrants will be frozen under an executive gag order."
"That means we have two hours to get this evidence to a neutral authority," I said, snapping the slide back onto the handgun with a sharp metallic click.
"It’s worse than that," Vance said, looking toward the dark treeline visible through the reinforced window. "Our comms just went dark. Local cell towers are being jammed."
Before I could respond, the thermal motion detectors along the perimeter chimed in sharp, rhythmic bleeps. Red dots populated the monitor on the desk—six distinct thermal signatures moving in a tactical wedge formation through the tree line.
"Private security," I said, identifying their equipment from the infrared feed. "Night-vision goggles, silenced carbines, civilian plates. They aren't local police. They're mercenaries hired by Richard."
"Mom..." Emily stood up, her hand instinctively reaching for mine.
"Stay behind me, Emily," I commanded softly. "Marcus, take the back egress. Get Emily to the armored SUV in the barn. I’ll cover the choke point."
"Victoria, you can't take six heavy operators alone," Vance warned.
"I'm not alone," I said, reaching for a remote detonator on the shelf—one I had rigged to the flash-bang perimeter defense grid I laid three hours ago. "I'm on defense."
The front door exploded inward in a shower of wood splinters and shattered iron.
I hit the switch.
A blinding flare of three million candlepower and a deafening 170-decibel concussion blast rocked the entryway. The two lead mercenaries crumpled to their knees, disoriented and screaming through their disrupted night-vision gear. I stepped into the hallway, firing three precisely controlled double-taps into their body armor plates, dropping them to the floor before they could raise their weapons.
A third operator charged through the smoke, swinging his rifle barrel toward me. I sidestepped the line of fire, grabbed the weapon's handguard, turned his own momentum against him, and drove my elbow into his larynx. He collapsed, gasping for air.
"Clear!" I shouted toward the back room. "Move now!"
Vance led Emily out the back corridor toward the concealed barn. But as I turned to follow, the remaining mercenaries opened blind automatic fire through the wooden walls. Splinters rained down around us.
Emily stumbled as a stray round caught the doorframe beside her, sending sharp wooden shrapnel into her arm. She cried out, dropping to her knees.
I threw myself over her body, using my tactical vest to shield her head as bullets tore through the living room furniture above us.
"I've got you," I grunted, pulling her up under her arms. "Keep moving!"
We burst into the dark barn just as Vance roared the armored SUV’s engine to life. The heavy garage door rose, and Vance smashed the vehicle through the wooden exterior gate, spinning the wheels on the wet gravel as Emily and I dove into the rear passenger seat.
As we sped away down the winding mountain pass, I looked back through the shattered rear window. The safe house was engulfed in flames, illuminating the dark forest behind us.
May you like
"They know we're alive," Vance said through gritted teeth, gripping the steering wheel. "And they know where we have to go."
"Good," I said, checking Emily’s arm and bandaging the superficial cut from the wood splinter. "Because we're done running. It's time to strike back."
