Chapter 6 - The Escape
The guard stared at the massive stack of cash in his hands.
He quickly shoved the money into his uniform pocket and nodded sharply.
“Follow me, and stay completely silent,” he instructed, turning down a dark, secondary corridor.
We bypassed the main elevators and walked toward a heavy, reinforced steel door labeled for authorized personnel only.
The guard scanned his badge, and the door clicked open to reveal a dimly lit concrete tunnel.
“This passage leads directly to the subway access maintenance shafts,” the guard whispered.
“Once you reach the end, you are entirely on your own.”
I thanked him quickly and stepped into the freezing, damp tunnel.
I sprinted through the darkness, clutching the canvas bag tightly against my chest.
The sound of my own harsh breathing echoed loudly off the concrete walls.
I knew Chloe’s armed men would eventually breach the lobby and force their way down into the vault.
I had to disappear into the massive, chaotic crowds of the city before they discovered my escape route.
I ran for twenty agonizing minutes until I finally saw a rusted metal ladder leading up to a heavy grate.
I climbed the ladder and pushed the iron grate aside with every ounce of my remaining strength.
I climbed out into a deserted maintenance alley directly behind a bustling subway station.
I blended into the massive crowd of late-night commuters, keeping my head down and my face hidden.
I purchased a cheap burner phone from a corner bodega using the cash I found in the vault.
I sat in a dark corner of a crowded diner and ordered a black coffee to steady my violently shaking hands.
I powered on the burner phone and dialed the number of Eleanor’s long-time estate lawyer, Mr. Vance.
He answered on the third ring, his voice groggy with sleep.
“Mr. Vance, it is Sarah, and I have the silver key,” I whispered urgently into the receiver.
There was a long, heavy silence on the other end of the line.
“Where are you, Sarah?” Mr. Vance asked, his voice suddenly sharp and fully awake.
I gave him the address of the diner and told him I needed immediate legal protection.
“Do not move from that booth, I will be there in exactly fifteen minutes,” he promised before hanging up.
I sat perfectly still, watching the front door of the diner with paranoid, exhausted eyes.
Ten minutes later, the bells on the diner door chimed loudly.
I looked up, expecting to see the familiar, comforting face of the elderly lawyer.
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Instead, Julian walked through the front door, his eyes completely bloodshot and his clothes wrinkled from the urgent flight.
He spotted me instantly and marched directly toward my booth, his fists clenched in pure, unadulterated rage.
