Chapter 3 - The Bracelet
Claire tore the bracelet off Noah’s wrist so fast the clasp scratched her thumb.
“What did you put on my baby?” she demanded.
“I didn’t,” Adrian said.
Cross grabbed the bracelet and turned it over.
A tiny blue pulse flashed beneath the engraved initials A.V.
“That’s a beacon.”
Claire felt sick. “The hospital gave it to me.”
“Who?”
“A nurse. She said it was from Adrian.”
Adrian’s face hardened. “I didn’t even know Noah existed.”
The footsteps above grew louder.
Cross wrapped the bracelet inside his glove and shoved it into a drainage pipe.
“Then we just bought ourselves maybe thirty seconds.”
They crawled deeper into the passage.
At the far end, Adrian opened a maintenance hatch leading into the detached garage behind the house.
Snow blew through a broken side window.
His old black SUV sat under a tarp.
Claire stared. “That thing hasn’t run in a year.”
Adrian yanked the tarp away. “It runs.”
“You told me the transmission was dead.”
“I lied.”
“Wonderful. Put it on the list.”
Cross muttered, “You two should really schedule this conversation.”
Adrian glared at him. “If we live until morning, you can moderate.”
He opened the rear door for Claire.
A bullet punched through the garage door.
Everyone ducked.
Adrian fired twice toward the muzzle flash while Cross jumped behind the wheel.
“You drive?” Adrian snapped.
“I know the route.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Cross started the engine.
The SUV roared alive.
Claire almost laughed. Eight months of grief, three weeks of motherhood, ten minutes of gunfire, and somehow the stupid truck was what offended her most.
Cross rammed the garage door.
Metal screamed.
They burst into the alley behind the house and fishtailed across the snow.
Two black sedans followed immediately.
Adrian climbed into the passenger seat and checked his magazine.
“Where are we going?” Claire asked.
“St. Matthew’s.”
“The church?”
“Under it.”
“Of course there’s something under the church.”
Cross glanced at her in the mirror. “I like her.”
“Don’t,” Adrian said.
The first sedan gained on them.
Cross took a hard corner.
Noah started crying again.
Claire leaned over him, whispering, “It’s okay. Mommy’s here.”
Adrian turned halfway around.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, he looked like the man she remembered from grocery stores and Sunday mornings. The man who burned pancakes and sang badly in the shower.
Then headlights filled the rear window.
The sedan slammed into them.
The SUV spun.
Claire screamed and shielded Noah with her body.
They crashed into a snowbank.
Adrian kicked open his door and fired at the approaching vehicle.
Cross shouted, “Move!”
Claire climbed out through the opposite side.
A man stepped from the sedan, rifle raised.
Adrian aimed at him.
Then stopped.
The rifleman lowered his weapon too.
“Voss?” he called.
Adrian’s face went pale.
The man pulled off his mask.
Claire saw recognition hit Adrian like a fist.
“No,” Adrian whispered.
May you like
The man smiled sadly.
“Hello, brother.”
