Chapter 7: The Ultimatum
The USB drive felt heavy in the palm of my hand, a piece of cold metal that held enough stolen wealth to destroy lives all over again. Dad and Ruiz stood in the garage with me, staring at the small device.
"Linda hid it in the one place she knew Ryan wouldn't look," Dad said, his voice laced with disgust. "He never cared about Ava's car seat. He never cared about Ava."
Ruiz carefully took the drive with a gloved hand and dropped it into an evidence bag. "This is exactly what we needed. Cybercrimes can crack this, trace the offshore accounts, and lock down the funds. Once the money is gone, Vance has no reason to work for Ryan. The contract is broken."
For a brief, shining moment, I felt a surge of hope. It was over. We had the missing puzzle piece.
But I had underestimated Marcus Vance.
That evening, the Ava Grace Project was hosting a group therapy session. I had stayed late to help clean up. The building was quiet, the security guards patrolling the perimeter. I was wiping down the kitchen counter when my cell phone buzzed.
It was an unknown number.
"Emily Bennett," a deep, gravelly voice said. The sound of it sent ice through my veins. It was the kind of voice that had given orders in war zones.
"Marcus Vance," I replied, forcing my voice to remain level. "The police have the drive. You're too late."
Vance chuckled. It was a dry, humorless sound. "I know they have it. I also know that bureaucracy takes time. Warrants, encryption breaking, international banking delays. I have at least forty-eight hours before those accounts are frozen."
"Then you know you have nothing left to gain here. Leave us alone."
"I don't think you understand the situation, Emily," Vance said softly. "Look out the front window of the shelter."
My breath hitched. I dropped the rag and walked slowly toward the reinforced glass at the front of the building. Across the street, parked in the shadows of a broken streetlight, was a black SUV. The window rolled down. I couldn't see a face, only the distinct red dot of a laser pointer.
The red dot danced across the glass, then settled directly on the chest of Sarah, my young assistant, who was walking across the lobby to lock the front doors.
"No!" I gasped, pressing my hand against the glass.
"I have a thermal scope, Emily. I can see every heartbeat in that building," Vance said. "You have twenty-four hours to get that drive back from the police and bring it to me. If you don't, I don't just shoot the girl. I burn the entire shelter to the ground with everyone inside."
"You can't do this!"
"Ryan sends his regards," Vance whispered. The line went dead.
The red dot vanished. The black SUV slowly pulled away, melting into the night.
I collapsed against the wall, my knees giving out. The terror was overwhelming, a suffocating blanket threatening to drag me back into the dark. He was going to kill innocent women. Women who had come to me for safety.
I called Dad and Ruiz immediately. When they arrived, the shelter was in lockdown. I told them about the call, about the laser on Sarah’s chest.
"We evacuate," Ruiz said instantly. "We move everyone to a secondary location. Vance can't burn down an empty building."
"And then what?" I asked, tears of frustration spilling down my cheeks. "We hide forever? He’ll just track us to the next place. He’s a professional. As long as he thinks I can get that drive, he will hunt us."
Dad stood silently by the window, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles jumped. He looked at Ruiz. "We don't hide."
Ruiz frowned. "General, we can't play games with a mercenary."
"He's not a mercenary anymore, he's a desperate criminal with a ticking clock," Dad corrected, his military mindset taking over. "He gave us a deadline. A meeting place. He thinks he has the tactical advantage because he's using fear. But he forgot one thing."
I looked at my father, seeing the decorated combat veteran shining through. "What did he forget?"
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Dad turned to me, his eyes cold and hard as steel. "He forgot whose daughter you are. We are going to give him exactly what he asked for. We're going to hand him the drive. And when he steps out of the shadows to take it, we end this."
It was a terrifying plan. It was a dangerous trap. But as I looked at the walls of the shelter I had built—a place meant for healing, not hiding—I knew Dad was right. I was done running.
