Chapter 3
The heavy thrum of the black sedan's engine vibrated through the pavement, drowning out the distant wail of approaching sirens. Julian didn't flinch, but his hand tightened around the metal keycard in his pocket. The tinted windows of the sedan rolled down halfway, revealing only a pair of dark aviator sunglasses reflecting the glaring afternoon sun. No one stepped out, yet the sheer presence of the vehicle commanded a suffocating silence over the bustling hotel entrance.
“You shouldn't have touched that cart,” the stylish man whispered from the ground, his voice trembling as he stared fixedly at the sedan's front grill. “They're already watching the feeds. Every camera from here to the financial district has your face marked in red.”
“Let them watch,” Julian said evenly, his tall frame remaining an unmovable wall between the fallen man and the vehicle. He turned his head slightly. “Stay here with the bags, Leo.”
The seven-year-old boy, holding the sleeping newborn tightly against his light blue polo shirt, shook his head rapidly. “No, Julian. Don't leave us. They have the other keys.”
“They won't get close,” Julian promised, his tone softening just enough for the boy to hear the absolute conviction beneath the restrained anger. He crouched down briefly, looking directly into the child's wide, dark eyes. “Remember what we practiced? If the doors open, you move toward the fountain.”
Before the boy could reply, the rear door of the black sedan clicked open with a mechanical precision that sounded like a gunshot. A gloved hand gripped the edge of the frame, but before the passenger could emerge, Julian stepped sideways, pivoting on his heel with athletic speed. He grabbed the heavy luggage cart he had previously used as a weapon and shoved it directly into the path of the sedan's opening door, jamming it shut with a deafening screech of bending metal.
A muffled curse echoed from inside the vehicle. The tinted window rolled down entirely, revealing a sharp-featured woman in a charcoal-gray trench coat, her expression carved from absolute ice.
“You are making a catastrophic mistake, Julian,” she said, her voice smooth, controlled, and chillingly devoid of emotion. “Those children are state property under the emergency corporate mandate.”
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“They are human beings,” Julian retorted, standing tall, his dark gray suit catching the light as he faced her down. “And the mandate expired twenty minutes ago.”
The woman's lips parted into a razor-thin smile as she reached inside her coat, pulling out a small, blinking digital tablet that displayed a live countdown timer with less than three minutes remaining.
