Chapter 3 - A Ghost from the Past
"Maya, get up. We're leaving."
I walked into the living room, tossing a canvas duffel bag onto the coffee table.
She looked up, confused. "What? Mom, it's almost midnight. Where are we going?"
"Pack a bag. Clothes for three days. Your laptop, chargers, and nothing else. Don't argue with me, Maya. Move."
My voice held the sharp, unquestionable authority of a commanding officer. Maya blinked, startled, but the tone broke through her teenage resistance. She ran down the hall to her room.
I went to my bedroom closet and pulled back the false floorboard.
Beneath it lay the things I swore I'd never touch again. A tactical rig. Passports with names that weren't mine. Thick stacks of hundred-dollar bills. And a satellite phone that had been dead for six years.
I powered the phone on. By some miracle, the battery held a sliver of life.
I dialed a number I had memorized long ago. It rang twice before a deep, gruff voice answered.
"The bakery is closed," the voice said.
"I need a cake," I replied, my voice shaking slightly. "Extra frosting."
There was a heavy pause on the line.
"Callie?" The voice cracked. "Is... is that you?"
"I need help, Elias."
Elias Thorne. Former CIA paramilitary. The man who pulled me out of the wreckage of Operation Desert Rain. The man I had loved, and the man I had abandoned in the dead of night because staying with him put a target on his back.
"They told me you were dead," Elias whispered.
"I was. But I woke up tonight. And someone knows I'm here."
"Where are you?"
"Georgia. A town called Pine Ridge."
"I'm two hours away in Atlanta," Elias said, his tone instantly shifting from a wounded lover to a tactical operator. "Hold your position if you can. If you have to run, head north on Route 9. I'll find you."
"Elias... thank you."
"Just stay alive, Callie."
I hung up and grabbed my tactical gear, throwing a heavy jacket over my shoulders to hide the holstered weapon.
When I walked back into the living room, Maya was standing there with her backpack. She was staring at the extra magazines clipped to my belt.
"Mom," she stammered, her eyes wide with terror. "What is going on? Why do you have a gun?"
Before I could answer, the loud crunch of gravel echoed from the driveway outside.
Multiple vehicles.
May you like
They had cut their headlights.
"Get down!" I screamed, tackling Maya to the floor just as the living room window exploded into a shower of glass and lead.
