Chapter 3 - The Escape Plan
The threatening text message illuminated the dark bedroom, plunging us into absolute panic.
The syndicate's heavily armed cleanup crew was already on their way to silence us permanently.
I tossed the burner phone onto the bed and rushed into the hallway.
I sprinted to Maya's bedroom, my heart pounding violently against my ribs.
I scooped my sleeping daughter out of her bed, wrapping her tightly in her pink comforter.
She mumbled sleepily, asking why we were awake so early in the morning.
I kissed her forehead and lied, telling her we were going on a surprise camping trip.
Sarah met us at the bottom of the stairs, clutching a small duffel bag stuffed with clothes and our passports.
We hurried out the back door and ran across the dewy grass toward our detached garage.
I strapped Maya into the backseat of my SUV while Sarah climbed into the passenger side.
I grabbed a heavy steel crowbar from my workbench before jumping into the driver's seat.
I slammed the garage door opener and threw the vehicle into reverse.
As the wooden door slowly rolled upward, the headlights of three black vans swept into our driveway.
The cleanup crew had arrived significantly faster than I had anticipated.
Half a dozen men dressed in dark tactical gear poured out of the vans with suppressed weapons drawn.
I did not hesitate for a single second.
I stomped the gas pedal all the way to the floorboard.
The heavy SUV shot backward, smashing violently through the rising garage door and sending wooden splinters flying everywhere.
We slammed directly into the side of the closest black van, crushing its passenger door inward.
The mercenaries scattered to avoid the collision, raising their rifles to fire.
I threw the transmission into drive and aggressively swerved across the neighbors' manicured lawn.
Suppressed bullets completely shattered my rear windshield, showering the backseat with thousands of tiny glass fragments.
Maya screamed in terror, burrowing deep beneath her thick blanket to hide.
I yanked the steering wheel hard to the left, speeding recklessly down our quiet suburban street.
Sarah checked on Maya, confirming with a shaking voice that our daughter was physically unharmed.
We navigated the dark, winding roads of our neighborhood, desperate to put as much distance between us and the killers as possible.
I constantly checked my rearview mirror, praying that the damaged van could not follow us.
After ten minutes of frantic driving, we merged onto the desolate interstate highway heading north.
I finally allowed myself to take a ragged, shallow breath.
We had survived the initial ambush, but our lives as we knew them were officially over.
I told Sarah that we could never go back to that house again.
She stared out the window into the darkness, completely traumatized by the sudden violence.
Suddenly, the dashboard navigation screen in my car flickered and glitched.
The standard GPS map was abruptly replaced by a high-definition live video feed.
I stared in sheer horror at the image displayed on my own dashboard.
The video showed the interior of Maya's dark bedroom, recorded from a hidden camera we never knew existed.
May you like
A chilling, synthesized voice echoed through the car's speakers.
The voice warned us that they had been watching us for months, and there was absolutely nowhere left to hide.
