Chapter 10 - The Promise of Tomorrow
The tactical agents swarmed the underground tunnel like a wave of unstoppable force.
Arthur’s mercenaries dropped their weapons immediately, realizing they were completely outnumbered and outgunned by the federal authorities.
Arthur Whitmore’s arrogant smile finally vanished as a federal agent slammed him aggressively against the damp stone wall and slapped heavy steel cuffs on his wrists.
Grace collapsed onto the cold floor, the silver flash drive rolling safely into the hands of an FBI commander.
She had secretly programmed an encrypted email containing all the evidence to automatically send to the FBI if she didn't log into her computer for forty-eight hours.
Paramedics rushed down the stairs, loading Grace onto a stretcher and administering a powerful, broad-spectrum anti-toxin directly into her veins.
Months later, the massive federal investigation completely dismantled Arthur's illegal empire and the rival cartel run by Marcus.
Because of Grace's incredible bravery and the evidence she provided, our family was awarded a massive sum from the federal whistleblower fund.
We used the money to buy a beautiful, sunlit house with a massive garden in a quiet, safe neighborhood entirely far away from the city.
Grace fully recovered from the poison and finally enrolled in the nursing school she had always dreamed about.
Annie and I had hot meals every single night, brand new clothes, and the peace of mind that we would never have to scavenge for food again.
We were finally safe, happy, and living the exact beautiful life that our parents had always wanted for us.
I walked down our new driveway on a bright Sunday morning to grab the newspaper from the shiny metal mailbox.
Inside the box, resting underneath the local paper, was a plain white envelope with absolutely no return address.
I opened it and found a high-resolution photograph of our new house, taken from the bushes just moments ago.
May you like
Written on the back of the photo, in our supposedly dead father’s unmistakable handwriting, was a single, terrifying sentence.
"They finally know you survived, so you have exactly one hour to pack your bags and run."
