Chapter 3 - The Traitor
I stared at the chilling text message, my hands trembling so violently I almost dropped the phone.
I looked up at General Vance, who was currently barking defensive orders into his radio with his back turned to me.
My father was focused on the shattered window, his rifle aimed steadily at the approaching hostile shadows.
"Dad," I whispered frantically, tugging hard on the sleeve of his borrowed suit jacket.
He didn't look away from his target, his jaw completely tense.
"Not now, Maisie, I need you to stay as low as possible," he commanded softly.
I shoved the glowing phone screen directly into his line of sight so he was forced to read the warning.
My father's eyes flicked to the text message, and I watched his entire demeanor shift in a fraction of a second.
He didn't say a single word, but the barrel of his rifle subtly shifted away from the window.
It was now aimed directly at General Vance's back.
"Vance, why are the local police suddenly compromised?" my father asked, his voice dangerously calm and measured.
The General glanced over his shoulder, noticing the weapon pointed at him, and slowly lowered his radio.
"James, you know how deep the cartel's money runs in this town," Vance replied smoothly, holding his hands up defensively.
"They couldn't afford a coordinated hit without inside military intel," my father stated, racking the bolt of the rifle with a loud click.
Before Vance could answer, a massive explosion rocked the muddy field, flipping one of the approaching hostile vans into the air.
The distraction was exactly what the General needed to make his move.
Vance violently kicked the rifle out of my father's hands and lunged for the heavily armored SUV door.
He threw himself out into the darkness, rolling gracefully into the muddy grass before sprinting toward the tree line.
"He's getting away!" I screamed, feeling a sudden surge of pure adrenaline.
My father didn't chase him; instead, he scrambled into the driver's seat of our smoking vehicle.
"Hold on tightly, Maisie, this engine only has a few minutes left," he warned, forcefully jamming the key into the ignition.
The ruined SUV roared to life, and we tore out of the field, leaving the chaotic firefight behind us.
We drove in terrified silence for ten miles until the engine finally died on a deserted highway.
My father slumped over the steering wheel, breathing heavily as he clutched his chest.
May you like
I turned to ask him what our next move was, but the words completely died in my throat.
He coughed violently, and a thick spray of dark red blood coated the illuminated dashboard.
