Chapter 11
The vintage radio in the dashboard of the Ford Mustang crackled with static before a cold, synthesized emergency broadcast voice filled the cabin.
"All units, be on the lookout for a midnight-blue 1970 Ford Mustang, license plate unregistered, driven by a volatile male suspect accompanied by an adult female and a minor child. Subject is considered armed and dangerous. Issued by order of Vance Architecture corporate security and the New York Police Department."
Julian let out a harsh, bitter curse, slamming his palm against the steering wheel. The car swerved slightly on the wet asphalt before he regained control, his tattooed knuckles turning pure white.
"Marcus didn't just lock our accounts," Julian said through clenched teeth, his voice vibrating with suppressed rage. "He’s reported us as kidnapping fugitives. Every highway patrol unit between here and the Canadian border is going to be looking for this car."
Clara turned around in her seat, her eyes wide with panic as she looked back down the empty stretch of highway behind them. No police cruisers were visible yet, but the broadcast made it clear that time was running out.
"They're using the corporate security network to override the state emergency system," Clara said, her mind racing. "If they control the broadcast towers, they can track our cell phone signals if we have any devices turned on."
Julian reached instinctively into the pocket of his black blazer, pulling out his high-end smartphone. Without a second hesitation, he rolled down his window and hurled the expensive device out into the rushing darkness of the highway. It smashed against the concrete median and shattered into a thousand pieces.
"Phones are dead," Julian said flatly. "Good thing this car doesn't have a digital navigation system."
"What about my phone?" Clara asked, patting the pockets of her beige cardigan. "It's an old burner I bought with cash from the agency."
"Take the battery out and throw it out the window," Julian instructed, keeping his eyes locked on the empty, winding road ahead. "We can't take any chances."
Clara quickly popped the back cover off her cheap burner phone, ripping out the battery and tossing both pieces out into the wind. The cabin of the vintage Mustang was now entirely isolated from the modern world—a mechanical relic traveling through time, carrying three people running for their lives.
In the back seat, little Lily stirred, her small eyes fluttering open for the first time since they had left the penthouse. The soft morning light hit her face, and she let out a confused, sleepy cry, rubbing her eyes with her tiny fists.
"Mommy?" Lily whispered softly into the quiet car, her voice small and heartbreaking.
Clara froze. The word wasn't directed at her, but the sheer vulnerability in the child's voice pierced straight through her heart. Clara unbuckled her seatbelt, turning around to lean over the center console and gather the little girl into her arms.
"It's okay, sweetie," Clara murmured soothingly, rocking Lily gently as the toddler buried her face in Clara's white top, tears welling in her big brown eyes. "I've got you. We're going on a trip."
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Julian glanced in the rear-view mirror, his expression softening into an expression of profound, aching sorrow. He reached out with his tattooed hand, gently resting it on the back of Clara's seat for a fraction of a second before returning both hands to the wheel.
"We're almost to the old logging road," Julian said softly. "Once we turn off the highway, the GPS satellites won't even know we exist."
