"Enough," I said, though I wasn't certain. "For now, enough."
The road curved toward a bridge spanning the river. Cam slowed our approach.
Without a word, she rolled down her window. Wind rushed in as she unclipped the gate remote from the visor. Her movements were fluid, almost casual, as she tossed it out in a perfect arc. The small black device tumbled through the air before disappearing into the sparkling water below.
I tracked the Range Rover as it followed us onto the bridge. Kara maintained perfect distance behind us, just as we had rehearsed countless times. Her window was already down, arm extended. I watched her flick her wrist, sending her remote following the same trajectory as ours. It vanished into the river with barely a splash.
Neither of them hesitated or looked back. We had run this scenario so many times that it had become muscle memory. Every movement calculated, every contingency planned for. The precision of it all still impressed me, even after years of working together.
I glanced at Sabine. Her eyes were wide, following the path where both remotes had disappeared. I recognized the moment understanding dawned on her face—we were cutting ties completely. No electronic trail. No way to trace us back to the property. No way for her to return to her old life.
Her gaze met mine, and I saw the weight of it settle on her shoulders. The only path now was forward, into whatever uncertain future awaited us. She nodded once, almost imperceptibly, and I knew she understood what we had all accepted long ago: sometimes survival meant burning bridges, both figuratively and literally.
The late afternoon sun slanted through the trees as our van ate up the empty country road. I watched the speedometer hover at exactly fifty-five, Cam's steady hands never wavering from their perfect ten-and-two position. In the rearview mirror, the Range Rover maintained its distance. Twenty yards behind us, just as planned.
I turned to check on Sabine. She hadn't spoken since the bridge. Her profile was sharp against the window, her features cast in gold as she watched the sun begin its slow descent toward the tree line.
I ran through my mental checklist again. Sabine was here, physically unharmed. The cats were safe. Alex was following with Kara, both vehicles intact and on schedule. No injuries. Clean extraction. The plan was working.
But something in Sabine's expression made my chest tighten. The journalist who had fearlessly exposed the Bellante family now looked lost, her world condensed to this van, this moment, this uncertain journey. The reflection in her window showed a woman caught between worlds—the one she'd destroyed behind us, the one we were racing toward still formless, undefined.
I wanted to tell her it would be okay, that we knew what we were doing. But I had promised her honesty from the beginning. So I stayed silent and watched the trees blur past us, their shadows stretching longer with every mile.
I checked the time on my watch: 15:37. Alpha in ten hours if we maintained our pace. After that, we'd move to the next location. I knew the route like the back of my hand, though Sabine wouldn't know until we arrived.
The plan was working. We were on schedule.
Our convoy cut through the countryside as the sun melted into the horizon. The Range Rover remained steady behind us. Kara never failed.
Ahead lay Alpha, our first safe house. Temporary refuge. A place to breathe before the next leg.
Behind us, the mansion continued to burn, evidence turning to ash. The Scorpions would likely be mobilizing now, their network lighting up with chatter. But they'd find nothing but charred remains and false leads.
And between those two points existed only this moment: the hum of tires on asphalt, the purr of well-tuned engines, the occasional rustle from the cat carrier. Just movement. Just forward.
Sabine's eyes had lost that wild, haunted look. Her breathing had steadied. The journalist who had stared down the Bellante family was still in there, gathering herself.
I reached back over the seat, my hand finding hers where it rested beside the carrier. Her skin felt cool beneath my fingers. I squeezed once, a silent promise.
She hesitated only a moment before squeezing back, her grip firm and certain.
She didn't let go. Neither did I.
Together, we watched the golden sun swallow the road behind us.
34
Sabine
I jolted awake toa loud rumbling overhead. The van's backseat had left creases in my cheek, and my mouth tasted like stale coffee and fear. Through the windshield, I could make out dilapidated buildings against a pitch-black sky. The dashboard clock read 2:17 AM.
"Where are we?" I asked, but no one answered.
Cam steered us into what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse bay. The headlights swept across concrete floors before she killed the engine. Kara's Range Rover pulled in behind us, and the massive door groaned shut with a finality that made my stomach clench.
When Kara flipped a switch, fluorescent lights buzzed to life overhead, revealing an interior that contradicted the building's exterior decay. The windows were painted black from the inside, creating a perfect blind. No one could see in. No one would know we were here.
The concrete floor gleamed and tool benches lined the walls with equipment arranged in meticulous order. Above us, office windows looked down onto the bay floor, their glass clean and unbroken. This wasn't some last-minute hideout they'd scrambled to secure. This place had been waiting.
