Chapter 8
The armored federal transport surged forward, its heavy tires kicking up gravel as it tore out of the railyard gates and merged onto Route 9. Inside the dimly lit cabin, the air was thick with tension. Leo sat huddled between his father Thomas and Clara, his small fingers locked tightly around his dad’s calloused hand. Across from them sat Marcus Vance, his laptop open on his knees as he furiously typed commands to bypass federal firewall restrictions.
“They’re tracking our GPS signal through the backup transponder in the vehicle,” Marcus said, his voice clipped and urgent. “Whoever is hunting Thomas has access military-grade satellite tracking.”
The marshal sat in the front passenger seat, barking orders into his secure radio.
“Requesting air support on Sector 4! We have an active pursuit by two unmarked black SUVs!”
Suddenly, a deafening crash echoed from the rear of the transport as a heavy projectile slammed into the back doors, sending a violent shockwave through the cabin. Lily whimpered softly in her sleep—though the federal medics had stabilized her post-extraction, she remained heavily sedated on a medical cot strapped to the side wall.
“They’re trying to run us off the road!” Clara cried out, grabbing a hand strap overhead as the vehicle swerved violently to avoid a second impact.
Thomas pulled Leo closer, shielding his son’s head as the sound of automatic gunfire pinged off the armored steel plating of the transport doors.
“Marcus, listen to me,” Thomas said urgently over the roar of the engine. “The drive-flash in my jacket pocket contains the ledger. Everything the cartel fears is on that drive. If they get it, we all die here.”
Marcus looked up from his glowing screen, his eyes locking onto his brother’s.
“Why didn't you come to me three years ago, Thomas? Why let us all think you were dead?”
“Because the cartel had infiltrated our family business back then, Marcus. I couldn't trust anyone—not even you,” Thomas confessed, a tear cutting a clean path through the soot on his cheek.
Before Marcus could answer, the driver slammed on the brakes to avoid a massive roadblock formed by a jackknifed semi-truck blocking both lanes of Route 9.
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The transport skidded sideways across the icy asphalt, coming to a violent halt just inches from the concrete divider.
Surrounding them in a tight semicircle were four black SUVs, their doors flying open simultaneously as heavily armed men in tactical gear poured out into the headlights.
