Chapter 3 - The Escape
The powerful thermal charge melted through the heavy steel locks in a matter of seconds.
Simon forcefully shoved Abigail into a hidden ventilation shaft just before the vault door exploded inward.
Thick, suffocating gray smoke filled the small safe room instantly.
"Crawl as fast as you can," Simon ordered, following closely behind her heels.
They shimmied desperately through the narrow, dusty vents of the historic mansion.
Directly below them, heavy combat boots stomped aggressively across the expensive hardwood floors.
Abigail could easily hear unfamiliar, angry men shouting commands in Russian.
They finally reached the end of the shaft, which opened directly above the underground garage.
Simon kicked the heavy iron grate loose, and they dropped quietly onto the cold concrete floor.
He led her quickly toward a sleek, heavily armored black SUV parked in the shadows.
"Get in the passenger seat and stay out of sight," he commanded sharply.
Simon skillfully hot-wired the engine while keeping his gun aimed squarely at the stairwell door.
They crashed violently through the wooden garage doors and sped off blindly into the rainy night.
Abigail clutched her seatbelt tightly, her heart pounding frantically against her aching ribs.
"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice shaking noticeably.
"To the absolute only safe house they do not know about," Simon replied grimly.
He drove them aggressively to an abandoned industrial warehouse on the far edge of the city limits.
Once safely inside, he collapsed heavily onto an old couch, his face extremely pale from blood loss.
Abigail rushed over immediately, tearing a clean piece of her ruined wedding dress to apply pressure to his wound.
As she rapidly unbuttoned his bloody shirt, a small metallic device clattered loudly onto the floor.
It was a highly advanced, blinking GPS tracking bug.
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Simon stared at it intensely, then looked up at Abigail with pure, lethal hatred.
The tracker had fallen directly out of the hidden pocket of her bridal gown.
