Chapter 3 - A Race Against the Bloodline
Vance didn’t waste a single second. She grabbed the black briefcase from the safe, tossed me a bulletproof vest from the trunk of her SUV, and slammed her foot on the gas.
We tore down Route 9, the siren screaming.
“Call your wife,” Vance barked, weaving through the evening traffic. “Do not tell her about your father. Do not tell her about your mother. Just tell her to get the kids, go out the back door, and walk to the end of the street. Tell her it’s an emergency.”
I fumbled with my phone and dialed Celeste.
It rang three times. Every ring felt like an eternity.
Finally, she answered. “Hey, Jules. Are you okay? Your mom said you needed a moment.”
“Celeste, listen to me very carefully,” I said, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. “I need you to grab Leo and Maya. Don’t pack anything. Just get their coats.”
“What? Why?”
“Go out through the kitchen door. Tell my mother you’re going to the car to get a toy. Don’t let anyone follow you.”
“Julian, you’re scaring me. Arthur just poured me a glass of wine. What’s going on?”
“Celeste, please!” I begged. “Just walk to the end of Elm Street. I am coming to get you right now. Do not trust my mother. Do not drink the wine!”
There was a long, agonizing pause on the other end. I could hear the murmur of the funeral guests in the background. I heard the clinking of glasses.
Then, a harsh whisper. “Okay. We’re leaving now.”
“Keep the line open,” I said.
Through the phone, I could hear her footsteps. I heard her call out to the kids. I heard the kitchen door squeak open.
And then, I heard my mother’s voice.
“Celeste, dear? Where are you going with the little ones? It’s freezing outside.”
“Just… just running to the car, Helen,” Celeste lied. Her voice was trembling. “Maya left her iPad in the backseat.”
“Arthur can get it for you,” my mother insisted. Her tone was polite, but there was steel beneath it.
“No, it’s fine!” Celeste practically shouted. I heard the sound of the wooden door slamming shut, followed by the crunch of her heels on the gravel driveway. “Run, kids. Come on, run.”
“I’m two blocks away,” I yelled into the phone. “Keep moving!”
Vance killed the siren and the headlights as we turned onto Elm Street. The neighborhood was dark, lined with old oak trees and expensive colonial homes.
Up ahead, illuminated by a flickering streetlamp, I saw them.
Celeste was holding Maya in her arms and dragging Leo by the hand. They were sprinting down the sidewalk.
Behind them, two large men in dark suits stepped out of my mother's driveway. They weren't moving fast, but their strides were long, purposeful, and terrifyingly calm.
“Get in!” Vance shouted, throwing the SUV into a harsh skid that blocked the sidewalk. I threw open the back door.
Celeste threw the kids inside and dove in after them. I grabbed her hand and pulled her close as Vance slammed the gas pedal to the floor. The tires squealed, burning rubber as we sped away from the men in suits.
Celeste was sobbing, clutching the children to her chest. “Julian, what is happening? Those men… they had guns inside their jackets. Your mother… she just watched them go after us.”
I pulled my wife into my arms, burying my face in her hair.
“I know,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry. I know.”
From the front seat, Vance glanced at us through the rearview mirror.
“We have the family,” she said into a radio clipped to her lapel. “But the cover is blown. We need a safe house.”
I looked out the window as my childhood neighborhood disappeared into the darkness. Everything I knew was a lie. But at least my family was safe.
Or so I thought.
My phone buzzed again. A text message. But not from my mother.
It was from an unknown number.
They got away. But we have your mother. If you want her to survive the night, bring the decryption key to the old shipyard.
I stared at the screen.
May you like
My mother had betrayed my father. She had almost handed my children over to monsters.
But she was still my mother.
