Chapter 8
The sun dipped entirely below the horizon, painting the sky in bruises of deep purple and charcoal gray. The temperature dropped sharply, chilling the sweat on Arthur’s neck as he walked with one arm wrapped tightly around Lily’s trembling shoulders. They had covered nearly a mile through dense woods and rocky creek beds, avoiding the paved roads where estate patrol vehicles occasionally crawled by with their high-beams scanning the treeline.
Arthur’s polished suit was ruined, covered in mud, burrs, and torn at the shoulder where a low-hanging branch had caught him during their sprint. Yet, his grip on the dark leather duffel bag remained ironclad. It was their lifeline, their ticket across state lines and away from Elena’s suffocating influence.
As they crested a small grassy rise, the skeletal silhouette of the old abandoned flour mill came into view against the darkening sky. Its broken windows gaped like empty eye sockets, and rusted corrugated metal sheets rattled softly in the evening wind. No lights burned inside, but parked discreetly behind the decaying structure was a nondescript black sedan, its engine idling silently in the shadows.
Arthur let out a long, shuddering breath of relief. He slowed their pace, signaling for Lily to stay low as they approached the vehicle.
Before they reached the car door, a tall figure stepped out from the deep shadows of the mill’s loading dock. The man wore a heavy canvas jacket, a baseball cap pulled low over his face, and held a small flashlight pointed straight at the ground.
"You're twenty minutes late, Arthur," the gruff voice said, stepping forward into the faint glow of the car’s taillights. It was Marcus, an old contact from Arthur's days working corporate security before he married into Elena’s wealthy dynasty.
"We had complications. Security alarms went off," Arthur said, reaching the car and opening the back door for Lily. She scrambled inside gratefully, curling up on the worn leather seat.
Marcus glanced back toward the direction of the estate, his expression grim. "Elena doesn't lose assets easily, Arthur. If she has security sweeping the perimeter, they'll find your trail eventually. Get in."
Arthur slid into the back seat beside Lily, pulling the heavy duffel bag in after him and slamming the door shut. Marcus slipped back into the driver's seat, immediately shifting the gear into drive without turning on the headlights until they bounced down the gravel access road onto Ridge Road proper.
"Where are we heading?" Marcus asked, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror to check for trailing headlights.
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"Montreal," Arthur said firmly. "We cross the border through the northern timberlands before dawn. I have contacts who can secure new documentation once we're across."
Marcus grunted, stepping hard on the accelerator as the sedan surged forward into the dark night. "It’s going to be a long, cold ride, Arthur. And Elena won't stop looking until she drags you both back."
