My husband walked into my hospital room after my near-fatal car accident—not to comfort me, but to demand that I get out of bed and stop costing him money. He tried to drag my broken body home until the door opened and he came face-to-face with the one man he never should have challenged: my father, a hidden special operations officer. / Chapter 12 / 60

Chapter 12 - Sector 4|

Sector 4 was a desolate, decaying industrial wasteland on the outskirts of the city. Rusting train cars sat like dead iron beasts on overgrown tracks, surrounded by crumbling brick warehouses and high chain-link fences topped with razor wire.

Rain began to fall, a steady, cold drizzle that slicked the asphalt and blurred the amber glow of distant security lights.

Elena's black SUV glided to a silent stop two blocks away behind an overturned tanker car.

"Perimeter security is heavy," Elena reported, looking through her night-vision scope from the front passenger seat. "Eight thermal signatures on the roof of the main warehouse. Two guard posts at the primary gate."

My father checked his tactical watch. "We have twenty minutes before Vance's deadline."

He turned around in his seat to face me. "Audrey, you walk through the main gate alone. Keep the cylinder hidden in your jacket pocket. You play the role of the terrified, broken victim. Make Vance believe he has total control."

"And Chloe?" I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Chloe is being held in the central office control room on the second floor," Elena said, pointing to a lighted window near the top of the main structure. "I have a green angle on that window from the water tower across the yard. The moment your father triggers the server virus, I take out the guard inside that room."

"What about Julian?" I asked, glancing at the empty floorboards of the SUV.

My father's expression turned ice-cold. "Julian is sitting in the back of a federal transport right now. When this is over, he faces twenty years for treason and child endangerment. He doesn't exist to us anymore."

I took a deep breath, clutching the small metal cylinder in my pocket. The fear that had paralyzed me in that hospital room three weeks ago was gone, replaced by a cold, burning protective rage that every mother understands.

I pushed open the SUV door and stepped out into the freezing rain.

"Audrey," my father called out softly.

I looked back.

"Your mother would be so damn proud of you," he whispered.