Chapter 9 - The Safehouse
Julian pulled off the interstate into an abandoned industrial marina along Lake Michigan. He ripped the vehicle's tracking module out from behind the glove box, stomping it into the slush, but he knew time was running out. They needed a vehicle untethered to the Sterling network, medical attention for Maya’s frostbite, and formula for Leo.
Maya sat on the floor of a rusted boathouse, rocking Leo softly. The child had grown pale, his breathing shallow and rapid.
"Julian, he’s too cold," Maya whispered, tears freezing on her eyelashes. "His forehead is burning, but his hands are like ice. He needs a doctor. Not tomorrow. Now."
Julian knelt beside them, touching Leo’s tiny cheek. The fever was unmistakable. A newborn could not survive a blizzard without proper care. Going to a hospital in the city would alert Arthur’s network instantly—every clinic in the county was financed through the Sterling Medical Foundation.
"I know one person," Julian said quietly, looking at his watch. "Someone Arthur can't buy."
He walked to the entrance and used a payphone outside the marina office, inserting coins with numb fingers. He dialed a private line he hadn't used in six years.
"Hello?" a woman's voice answered, cautious and strained.
"Clara," Julian said.
A gasp caught on the other end. "Julian? Where are you? The police are looking for you! My father says you went insane, that you took hostages—"
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"Clara, listen to me," Julian interrupted firmly. "My father sent mercenaries to execute me and that baby. The drive has proof he runs weapons through the port. Evelyn didn't abandon me; he ran her out of town. And right now, his grandson is dying of pneumonia. I need your help."
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