Chapter 12 - The Road to Manhattan
The decommissioned maintenance railcar rattled violently along the narrow-gauge tracks running through the abandoned iron mine.
Water dripped from the jagged stone ceiling, pattering against the rusty iron roof of the electric tunnel cart.
Mia sat huddled between Jake and Nico, wrapped in a heavy wool emergency blanket from the bunker’s survival storage.
Jake kept his right arm wrapped securely around her shoulders, his thumb rhythmically stroking the back of her hand.
Every few seconds, his eyes would drop to her abdomen, as if he still couldn't believe the reality of the miracle growing within her.
“Does it hurt?” Jake asked softly, leaning close so his breath warmed her cold cheek.
“Only when you make me run through underground bunkers,” Mia whispered with a weak, playful smile.
Jake buried his face in her hair, inhaling the clean, familiar scent of lavender that lingered beneath the dust of the siege.
“I am never leaving you again, Mia, not for one second, not for the rest of my life.”
Nico sat opposite them, using a clean field dressing from Jake’s tactical pouch to re-bind his damaged shoulder.
“Jake, Dominic has called an emergency assembly of the executive board for eight o’clock this morning,” Nico said.
Jake’s gaze hardened into black flint as he looked across at his brother.
“Dominic thinks he has won.”
“He filed an emergency petition with the probate court, claiming I was abducted by hostile agents and declaring me legally incompetent,” Nico explained.
“And with Father dead and you officially buried, the court will grant him full conservatorship over the voting trust,” Reed added from the helm.
Mia looked up at Jake, her fingers tracing the jagged scar above his left eye.
“What happens if Dominic signs that corporate transfer?”
“Romano Strategic Defense gets liquidated into an offshore private military firm called IronGate,” Jake said.
“And Vance Cross becomes the supreme commander of an unchecked, private army with full government contracts,” Nico finished.
The maintenance cart slowed to a halt at the terminus of the tunnel, five miles south of Mount Washington near a rural freight siding.
A mud-splattered black delivery van sat parked behind an abandoned grain depot, left there three months earlier as Jake’s emergency extraction cache.
Jake stepped off the cart first, his rifle raised as he swept the foggy treeline with practiced, lethal precision.
“Clear,” he signaled, turning to help Mia down from the iron steps with absolute gentleness.
They climbed into the delivery van, Reed taking the wheel while Nico opened a secure satellite laptop on the center console.
The van pulled out onto the quiet asphalt of Route 7, heading south toward the Taconic State Parkway under the cover of morning fog.
As the tires hummed over the wet highway, Nico monitored the regional law enforcement and federal chatter.
“Cross has issued an unclassified BOLO on our green utility van, claiming it was stolen by armed felons,” Nico reported.
“They don't know we switched vehicles at the rail terminus,” Jake said, keeping his eyes on the side mirrors.
Mia rested her head against Jake’s arm, exhaustion dragging heavily at her eyelids.
Jake looked down at her pale face, reaching into his tactical pocket to pull out a silver chocolate bar wrapper he had preserved.
“Eat this,” he said gently, breaking off a piece and holding it to her lips.
Mia took the sweet chocolate, closing her eyes as the sugar rushed into her bloodstream.
“You kept this in your gear?”
“I bought it at the corner store the morning I ran,” Jake admitted, his voice cracking with emotion.
“I was going to bring it home to you with the groceries, and I couldn't bring myself to throw it away.”
Mia’s heart swelled with an overwhelming, painful love that eclipsed every fear of the coming battle.
She took his calloused hand, pressing his open palm firmly against the right side of her belly.
The baby kicked again, hard and distinct, sending a jolt through Jake’s fingers.
Jake let out a ragged breath, tears shining in the corners of his eyes under the dashboard illumination.
“A boy,” Jake whispered, his voice trembling with certainty.
“You think so?” Mia asked, smiling through her exhaustion.
“He hits like a middleweight boxer, just like Nico used to when we were kids,” Jake said with a faint laugh.
Nico glanced back over his shoulder, a rare, genuine smile softening the harsh lines of his face.
“Let’s hope he gets his mother’s brains, because the Romano men have a history of making terrible decisions.”
The laughter in the van was brief, but it cleared the suffocating dread that had followed them from Long Island.
By six-thirty in the morning, the dense woods of upstate New York gave way to the sprawling suburban concrete of Westchester County.
Ahead of them, rising through the damp autumn mist, the jagged skyline of Manhattan appeared like a fortress of glass and steel.
The morning sun was a pale orange disc behind the low clouds, casting long, dark shadows across the East River bridges.
Reed navigated the van into the subterranean delivery docks beneath Grand Central Terminal, avoiding the high-traffic civilian avenues.
Jake pulled a black civilian overcoat over his tactical vest, checking the magazines of his sidearm before sliding it beneath the wool.
Nico pulled a fresh tailored suit jacket from an emergency garment bag stashed in the van’s storage trunk.
Mia stood between them, smoothing down the front of her maid uniform, refusing to hide behind comfortable excuses.
“You don't have to walk into that boardroom, Mia,” Jake said, his eyes filled with fierce protectiveness.
Mia looked at the two brothers, her chin lifting with quiet, unshakeable courage.
“I am walking into that room with you, Jake.”
May you like
She pressed Jake’s silver dog tags against her chest, letting them rest prominently outside the fabric of her black dress.
“I want your uncle to look at the woman carrying your child when he signs his own destruction.”
