"On to Delta?" Cam called through her open window.
"Yep," I confirmed, checking my mirrors. "We'll make the pit stop at the midpoint and swap drivers. Keep your burner phone on."
The bay door rolled up with a mechanical groan, revealing a slice of daylight that widened until the whole world opened before us. I scanned the street carefully. No suspicious vehicles. No loitering figures. Nothing out of place.
"Clear," I murmured, and pulled onto the street. The sprinter van's engine hummed beneath us as we headed west, toward the next safe house and whatever came after.
The fluorescent lights of the gas station outside Indianapolis buzzed overhead as I scanned the perimeter. I nodded at Cam, who escorted Sabine toward the restrooms with casual precision. My hand never left my concealed weapon.
"Clear so far," Ellie murmured, returning with a plastic bag of wrapped sandwiches. "Got those egg salad ones you like."
I watched Alex fuel up the pickup, her eyes constantly moving, cataloging every vehicle that pulled in. Professional. Focused. We'd trained for this.
"Switch," I said when Sabine returned. "Ellie takes the van. Alex drives point in the pickup."
Twenty minutes later we were back on the interstate, Sabine quiet in the back seat with her sandwich barely touched. It was dark by the time we reached the Kansas City office park: code name Delta. Our space was an anonymous front among dozens of identical structures. Inside, the space mirrored our Point Pleasant setup: monitors, weapons cache, sleeping quarters.
"Just overnight," I told Sabine as she sank onto one of the cots. "We'll be moving again at dawn."
Her eyes met mine, exhausted but trusting. I wouldn't let that trust be misplaced.
Midday the next day, we pulled into a gas station outside Sioux Falls. I volunteered for snack duty while Cam refueled and Ellie escorted Sabine to therestroom around the side of the building. The convenience store was nearly empty, just me and a bored cashier who barely looked up from her phone.
I grabbed protein bars, bottled water, and those terrible gas station sandwiches Ellie inexplicably loved. The news played on a small television mounted behind the register. I froze when Sabine's professional headshot filled the screen.
"The search continues for investigative reporter Sabine Barrett, missing for fourteen days," the anchor said. "Barrett authored the explosive exposé on the Bellante crime family that has sparked national attention."
My fingers tightened around the sandwich packages. The anchor continued, "North Coast Globe's editor-in-chief Mark Robeson was found murdered the same day Barrett disappeared. Police urge anyone with information to contact their hotline immediately."
The broadcast cut to footage of the Bellante estate fire. "Sources claim Domenica Bellante, youngest daughter of the family, is wanted for questioning in what investigators now believe was arson."
The camera panned to Arturo Bellante in an expensive suit, flanked by reporters outside an office building. His lawyer hovered at his elbow like a vulture.
"My sister had nothing to do with the fire. It was a gas leak. An unfortunate loss of our beloved family home," he stated coldly.
"Is it true Domenica is missing?" one reporter called out, as another said, “Are the allegations brought by Sabine Barrett accurate?” and yet another yelled from the back, “Do you know who killed Mark Robeson?”
"Of course not. All of those questions are ridiculous," Arturo snapped, turning away. "No more questions."
I glanced out the window. Alex stood by the van's open door, laughing at something Sabine said. My heart hammered against my ribs. We needed to get the fuck out of here.
I paid quickly, keeping my head down.
Six hours later, we reached our next safehouse on the outskirts of a small North Dakota town. We swapped the plates for Montana ones, ate a silent meal, and crashed for a few hours. By dawn, we were moving again.
The next day, I took the wheel for our final push toward Montana. Alex sat beside me, her fingers tapping a steady rhythm against the door handle. In the rearview mirror, I caught glimpses of Sabine asleep in the back, her head resting against the window, her breathing slow and even. The grey kitten was curled on her lap.
"Cam's staying tight on our six," Alex murmured, checking the side mirror.
I nodded, eyes scanning the empty highway stretching before us. We'd fallen into a rhythm over these days on the road. Ellie making sure everyone ate. Cam silently securing perimeters. Alex keeping us on track with our planned route. My team worked like a well-oiled machine.
But what happened when we reached the safehouse? If the DA moved forward with the Bellante case, Sabine would need to testify. The thought of taking her back into their territory sent ice through my veins. I gripped the steering wheel tighter.
"You're thinking too loud," Alex said quietly.
"How do we know the DA isn't compromised?" I asked. "The Bellantes have their fingers in everything."
Alex glanced back at Sabine. "We don't. But we'll figure it out."
