Chapter 11: The Underground Safehouse
Marcus drove them straight to an abandoned industrial laundry facility in the old factory district—a sprawling concrete labyrinth of rusted machinery and towering steam pipes that even the local police rarely patrolled.
"We're safe here for now," Marcus said, cutting the truck's engine and rushing to help Rebecca out. "I've got backup generators, encrypted comms, and medical supplies."
Inside a reinforced shipping container converted into a makeshift safehouse, Thomas stepped out from the shadows, his shoulder stained with a dark smear of blood where a grazing round had clipped him during the shootout.
Rebecca gasped, rushing forward. "Dad! You're bleeding!"
"It's just a flesh wound, Becca, don't worry about me," Thomas said, waving her off with a grim smile as he sank into a metal folding chair. "The important thing is that you and Lily made it out. But those men weren't ordinary thugs. They were professional private contractors. Julian is pulling out all the stops."
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"He knows we have the digital trail," Marcus added, pulling up a satellite map of the city on his monitors. "And tonight is the charity gala at his estate. If we don't strike tonight while he's distracted by hundreds of high-society guests and politicians, he's going to wipe the servers and disappear behind his offshore accounts forever."
Rebecca looked down at sleeping Lily, then touched her swollen belly. A fierce, unyielding light sparked in her eyes. "Then we finish this tonight. We crash his party."
