"We don't need a safe house," I say, zipping the bag shut. "We need a hunting blind."
"And the girl?" Luca asks. He nods toward the bedroom door. "She’s a liability, Silas. If we’re running... if we’re broke... dragging a hostage around is suicide. We should cut her loose. Or..." He trails off, leaving the darker option unspoken.
I turn on him so fast he flinches.
I step into his personal space, my eyes burning with a cold, blue fire.
"Ivy is not a hostage," I say, my voice low and lethal. "She is my wife. And she is the only asset that matters. If you suggest leaving her behind again, Luca, I will leave you behind. In pieces."
Luca swallows hard. He nods. "Understood. Sorry, Boss."
"Get the car ready. Not the SUVs. They have trackers. Take the old Bronco from the groundskeeper’s shed. Swap the plates."
"On it."
Luca hurries out to the garage access tunnel.
I stand alone in the bunker.
I look at the red screen on the laptop.ACCESS DENIED.
I close the lid and smash the computer with the butt of my Glock. The screen shatters.
I am not the CEO anymore. The suit is gone. The money is gone. The fortress is breached.
I am just a man with a gun and a woman to protect.
And I have never felt more dangerous.
I walk back into the bedroom.
Ivy is awake.
She’s sitting up in bed, clutching the sheet to her chest. Her hair is a mess, her eyes wide and alert. She sensed the shift in the atmosphere. She sensed the predator in the room.
"Silas?" she whispers.
"Get up," I say.
I walk to the dresser where I keep emergency supplies. I pull out clothes. Tactical pants. Thermal shirts. Heavy socks.
I toss them onto the bed.
"Put these on. We leave in ten minutes."
Ivy looks at the clothes, then at me. She sees the tension in my jaw, the way I’m moving—sharp, efficient, agitated.
"What happened?" she asks, not moving. "Are they back?"
"Worse," I say. "They hit the money."
I grab a pair of boots—too big for her, but they’ll have to do—and drop them on the floor.
"Nikolai froze the accounts," I explain briefly, grabbing my own gear. "He’s trying to starve us out. The Estate is burned, Ivy. If we stay here, the Feds will be knocking on the door by noon, and Nikolai’s hit squad will be waiting in the trees to pick off whoever runs."
"So we’re running," she says. It’s not a question.
"We’re repositioning."
