The aftermath of the shootout was a blur of flashing blue lights and the clinical smell of latex and antiseptic. The St. Regis garage, usually a silent sanctuary for luxury cars, had been transformed into a crime scene.
I stood by the service exit, clutching Leo so tightly to my chest that he let out a small, muffled protest in his sleep. I watched as the San Francisco police escorted a limping Silas toward a waiting cruiser. His face was a mask of cold fury, but even under the harsh glare of the police floodlights, he looked small. He had traded his honor for a payout that he would never get to spend. Behind him, the other traitor was shoved into a separate van, his head bowed in shame.
"Doctor?"
I turned to see Justin. He was the one who had stood his ground, the one who had fired the shot that saved us. He looked tired, his tactical vest dusted with concrete debris.
"The ambulance is moving Miller out now," Justin said, nodding toward the paramedics loading a stretcher. "He's stable. The bullet through the shoulder missed the bone, but he'll be out of commission for weeks."
"Tell him..." I paused, my throat dry. "Tell him I'll handle all his medical expenses. You and Miller's bonuses for loyalty will be tripled."
" Thank you, Doctor. We were just doing our job," Justin replied. He looked at the chaos, then back at me. "The police want a statement, but the hotel management is stalling them to give us a window. We need to move now before the press gets wind of a shooting at a five-star hotel."
I didn't need to be told twice. The "Shadow" in the black van had vanished into the city's veins the moment the tide turned, and I knew they wouldn't stay gone for long.
It was exactly 6: am when we hit the road. We didn't take my car. Justin had arranged for a nondescript, silver sedan—something that would blend into the morning commute of thousands of other families. I ushered Nanny B into the backseat, and I climbed in beside her, keeping Leo on my lap. Justin took the driver's seat, his hand resting near his sidearm as he navigated the winding exit of the garage.
As we hit the open road, the rain began to fall in earnest, a gray curtain draped over the Golden Gate Bridge. I stared out the window as the red spires of the bridge disappeared into the fog.
The offshore safe house was a small, secluded property I had acquired under a corporate name months ago—a place even the Reeds shouldn't be able to trace easily. It was miles away from the glitz of the city, tucked away where the Pacific crashed against the jagged cliffs.
The journey was three hours of pure, agonizing paranoia.
Every time a dark vehicle pulled into the lane behind us, my heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I found myself constantly checking the side mirrors, my eyes searching for the familiar matte-black silhouette of that van.
"They're not behind us, Doctor," Justin said quietly, catching my gaze in the rearview mirror. "I've taken three erratic turns and doubled back near the Sausalito exit. We're clean."
I tried to breathe, but the air felt thin. "They have his photo, Justin. They were standing right there."
"And they failed," he reminded me firmly. "The element of surprise is gone. They know now that you aren't an easy target."
I looked down at Leo. He had finally woken up, his big eyes blinking at the raindrops racing down the glass. He didn't know we were fugitives. He didn't know his mother was a woman being hunted by the shadows of a legacy she never asked for.
I pulled a small blanket over him, tucking him in as we turned off the main highway and onto the narrow, winding coastal road. The city was behind us. The police were dealing with the traitors. But as the waves roared in the distance, I knew the real battle hadn't even begun.
I was safe for the moment, but in the silence of the car, I couldn't help but wonder: was Asher really gone forever? Leaving me and Leo to face this mess he brought us into, if the people in that van found me this time, would I be strong enough to protect my son alone?
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