Chapter 6 - The Citywide Bounty
The red alert on the terminal flashed rhythmically, casting an eerie crimson glow across David’s weathered face. Clara stared at the monitor, watching Julian’s reflection in the security camera lens as he slammed his fist against the nurses' station counter. The hospital staff around him shrank back in absolute terror, too cowed by the Vance family's philanthropic donations and legal firepower to intervene.
"A bounty?" Clara whispered, her knees weakening beneath her. She grabbed the edge of the steel console to keep from collapsing. "He’s putting a price on our heads? In the middle of a major city?"
"Not an open bounty for amateurs," David corrected, his fingers flying across the mechanical keyboard as he downloaded encrypted files onto a ruggedized flash drive. "Julian operates through private security contractors and corporate fixers. To them, you aren't a mother protecting her child; you're a liability threatening a three-billion-dollar merger. Every traffic camera, toll booth, and ATM scanner in this state is currently running facial recognition algorithms programmed to flag your face."
"Then we can't stay here," Clara said, looking anxiously toward the heavy steel door they had just entered through. "If this is a Vance corporate facility, they'll trace your access code within minutes."
"They already have," David replied calmly, pulling the flash drive from the port and pocketing it. "Which is why we're leaving through the storm drains. Grab your bag."
"I don't have a bag. I only had a hospital gown and a cardigan."
"Then grab the extra blanket from the emergency kit on the wall. We need to insulate the baby before we hit the tunnels. The water down there is freezing, and the current is fast."
Clara moved with mechanical precision, stripping a thermal emergency foil blanket from the wall mount and wrapping it securely around the white cotton bundle holding her son. The infant stirred, letting out a tiny, high-pitched squeak before settling back into a deep, exhausted sleep. The resilience of the newborn broke something open in Clara’s chest—not tears this time, but a cold, burning resolve that replaced her fear. Julian wanted to treat her like trash and treat her son like a corporate asset? She would tear his entire empire down from the inside out.
David shoved open a heavy floor grate near the back of the archive room, revealing a dark, rushing torrent of water and the metallic echo of the municipal drainage system.
"Ladies first," David muttered, handing her a heavy-duty waterproof flashlight. "Keep low, follow the green service markers on the wall, and whatever you do, don't look back."
Clara lowered herself into the icy subterranean rush, the water instantly soaking through her hospital gown and chilling her to the bone. She cradled her son against her chest with one arm, gripping the slimy concrete wall with the other as she waded into the dark unknown.
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Behind them, the archive room door blew open with a deafening crash, followed by the sharp, unmistakable crack of a suppressed firearm echoing down the corridor.
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