Chapter 8
Marcus snatched the smartphone from Leo’s small, trembling hand, his thumb instantly swiping across the screen. The device flickered, displaying a string of encrypted folders and auto-saved cloud backups. The shattered window behind them let in a freezing gust of rain, but Marcus didn't flinch; his entire focus was locked onto the glowing display.
"They're tracking the device MAC address," Marcus said grimly, his fingers moving across the glass with practiced speed. "Whoever took that shot isn't a random hitman; they're corporate security for Apex Global—the firm your daughter just secured a multi-million-dollar tech partnership with."
Evelyn clutched Leo tighter, her mind racing as she tried to piece together the nightmare that had swallowed their lives in less than twelve hours. "Apex Global? Nyah said she was closing a big account, but she never mentioned anything illegal. She's just an executive marketing director!"
"Marketing is just the storefront, Mrs. Vance," Marcus replied without looking up, continuing to bypass the phone’s security protocols. "Apex Global handles government-contracted algorithmic surveillance. They've been under federal investigation for months for harvesting private civilian data. If Leo accidentally filmed something through that glass door—a meeting, a transfer, a conversation—they'll burn this entire neighborhood to the ground to recover it."
Outside, the screech of tires pulling up to the curb signaled the arrival of the extraction team, but before anyone could make a move toward the back exit, a heavy thud shook the rear kitchen door. Someone was trying the knob, testing the deadbolt with quiet, calculated precision.
Evelyn’s breath hitched. She looked around the living room, her eyes landing on the heavy iron fireplace poker resting beside the hearth.
"Marcus," Evelyn whispered, her voice low and steady as she gently set Leo down behind the heavy oak dining table. "Take the boy out the cellar stairs. There's an old coal chute that leads directly into the alley behind the bakery. Use it."
"I'm not leaving you here, Mrs. Vance," Marcus protested, pocketing the phone.
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"You take that phone, and you take my grandson, or we all die in this room," Evelyn countered, her eyes flashing with a fierce, unwavering resolve. She picked up the iron poker, stepping resolutely toward the dark hallway leading to the kitchen. "I've spent my whole life protecting this family. I'm not stopping now."
Before Marcus could argue further, the kitchen door splintered with a deafening crash, and heavy, tactical boots crunched onto the linoleum floor.
