Chapter 14
Before the man in the trench coat could turn toward the door, Mark let out a fierce roar of defiance. With a sudden burst of adrenaline, he violently wrenched his arms free from the guards, spinning around and driving his elbow hard into the nearest man's chest. The man stumbled back, crashing into the second guard and sending both of them sprawling over the broken furniture.
"Leo, grab the box and run!" Mark shouted, lunging forward to tackle the man in the trench coat before he could reach the exit.
The man swung around, catching Mark across the jaw with a heavy right hook, but Mark refused to let go, grabbing the trench coat collar and slamming him against the rough log wall of the cabin.
Leo didn't hesitate. He rushed past the struggling men, grabbing the metal lockbox off the table. As he turned toward the door, one of the tactical guards recovered, lunging forward to grab him by the shoulder.
Sarah burst from the cellar stairs behind them, swinging a heavy wooden stool with all her might, striking the guard square across the back and sending him crashing to the floor. "Run, Leo! Go now!" she yelled, grabbing his arm and pulling him through the splintered front doorway out onto the porch.
They sprinted down the wooden steps into the cool night air, the heavy metal lockbox clutched tightly in Leo’s hands. Behind them, the sounds of the struggle continued to echo from inside the cabin, but they didn't look back. They raced down the overgrown trail toward the ridge road, pushing their legs to the absolute limit.
As they crested the ridge, the harsh glare of headlights swept across the gravel road ahead. A local police cruiser was parked right across their path, blocking the exit. The driver's side door opened, and the sheriff stepped out, resting his hand casually on the holster at his hip as he watched them approach.
"End of the road, kids," the sheriff called out, his voice cold and devoid of any warmth. "Hand over the box."
Leo stopped dead in his tracks, his chest heaving as he stared at the police cruiser blocking their only way to safety. There was nowhere left to run.
"Don't do it, Sheriff," a voice called out from the dark behind them.
Mark limped out of the treeline, his face bruised and bleeding, yet holding his head high as he stepped between his family and the police cruiser. He held up a small, blinking device in his hand—a satellite transmitter wired directly to the digital copies of the journal.
May you like
"One push of this button," Mark said, his voice steady and echoing across the quiet road, "and every piece of evidence against you and the mayor is uploaded directly to every major news station in the state."
The sheriff froze, his hand hovering over his holster, his face turning pale in the harsh glow of the headlights as he realized the game was finally over.
