Chapter 12
Back inside the house, the den and the hallway had become a battleground of silence and brutal efficiency. Two men in dark utility jackets—men whose faces were hidden beneath ball caps pulled low—had pinned Thomas against the hallway wall. Thomas fought back with the raw, explosive strength of a firefighter who spent his life wrestling heavy hoses and tearing down burning beams, but the sheer surprise and coordinated takedown of the corporate security agents proved overwhelming.
"Where is the drive, Miller?" the lead agent demanded, his voice low and clinical as he pressed a heavy forearm against Thomas’s throat, cutting off his air supply.
Thomas wheezed, his face turning dark, but a defiant grin broke through his bruised lips. He didn't answer. He looked past the agent toward the open front door, listening intently for the distant rustle of leaves that meant Sarah and Elena had made it past the cedar line.
"You're wasting your time," Thomas choked out, his hands gripping the agent's wrists in a desperate struggle for leverage. "The files are already mirrored on an off-site server. The moment you touch me, an automated script sends the entire database to every major news outlet west of the Mississippi."
The agent hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes narrowing. "You're bluffing. You don't have the technical expertise to set up a dead-man switch."
"Try me," Thomas rasped, gathering the last ounce of his strength. With an explosive twist of his hips, he threw the agent off balance, sending him crashing into the wall-mounted bookshelf and sending knickknacks crashing to the floor in a shower of splintered wood and glass.
Thomas didn't wait to see if the second agent would recover. He ducked under a wild swing, bolted out the front door into the crisp night air, and didn't look back as he sprinted toward the dark woods where his family had vanished.
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The two security agents picked themselves up off the floor, brushing drywall dust off their jackets. The lead agent pulled a radio from his belt, clicking the transmit button with a cold, unfeeling thumb.
"Target has bolted. Secure the perimeter. No witnesses."
