The story isn't over yet—continue with the next chapter.

-8-

For three long, agonizing seconds, the subterranean bunker was dead silent, save for the mechanical hum of the server cooling fans.

Mark’s face drained of every last trace of color. He staggered backward, his hip colliding hard against the edge of the mahogany desk, knocking a ceramic mug crashing to the floor where it shattered into a dozen pieces.

“Claire?” Mark breathed, his voice trembling so violently he could barely form the syllables. “How… how did you find this place? Where is Lily?”

“Lily is safe, Mark,” I said, stepping further out into the harsh fluorescent light, keeping my posture upright, steady, and entirely unafraid. “Which is more than I can say for the two of you once the federal marshals arrive with the search warrant I cued to transmit the moment my phone reconnected to the satellite relay outside Tonopah.”

Marcus Thorne didn't panic like my brother. His eyes narrowed into cold, calculating slits. He didn't blink. With slow, deliberate precision, his right hand drifted downward toward the tactical holster secured to his hip.

“You’re a remarkably persistent woman, Mrs. Vance,” Thorne said smoothly, his voice carrying the calm, deadliness of a professional predator. “Just like your husband.”

At the mention of David, every drop of blood in my body surged with liquid fire. I stepped past Mark, ignoring my brother entirely as I fixed my gaze squarely on Thorne.

“Where is he, Thorne?” I demanded, my voice dropping into a harsh, vibrating register that made Mark flinch. “Five years ago, you told the family he walked out, that he abandoned us for another life. Where is David?”

Thorne gave a cold, thin smile that didn't reach his eyes. He didn't deny it. He didn't even pretend to be surprised.

“Your husband was an idiot with a hero complex,” Thorne replied casually, his fingers brushing the leather strap of his holster. “He thought he could infiltrate Project Vanguard from the inside and bring down a thirty-million-dollar international network with a pocket recorder and a notebook. Your father offered him a choice: sign a non-disclosure agreement, take a quiet severance, and walk away from you and the unborn child so the corporation’s reputation wouldn't be compromised.”

My breath caught in my throat. “And when he said no?”

“When he said no,” Thorne whispered, his smile turning feral, “we didn't kill him, Mrs. Vance. We simply gave him a new job description. Down in the deep-level holding cells three floors beneath this bunker. He’s been helping us maintain the encryption algorithms for the last five years. Want to go say hello?”

Before Thorne could unsnap his holster, Mark screamed out in absolute terror, lunging forward to grab Thorne’s arm.

“No! Are you insane, Marcus? She’s my sister! If you touch her—”

Thorne didn't hesitate. With a brutal, backhanded sweep of his heavy forearm, Thorne struck Mark across the face, sending my brother crashing violently to the concrete floor with a split lip and a terrified groan.