Chapter 136
Chapter 136:
She spat the name out like poison.
A pause followed. Heavy. Absolute.
“She is a dead woman walking,” Kegan said. “I’m launching the birds p>
The line went dead.
A second later, Cailin’s phone pinged. A map appeared — a red target box moving along 34th Street, tracked by a satellite feed refreshing in real time.
The garage doors opened. Ashely floored the accelerator and the car surged out into the sunlight, tires shrieking against the polished concrete.
Cailin pressed a hand to her chest. Her lungs felt packed with broken glass. Every breath was a deliberate act of will.
She fixed her eyes on the screen.
A blue dot was Hilliard. A green dot was them. The red box was the van.
The dots were converging.
“Faster, Ash,” Cailin whispered. “They’re heading for the industrial district p>
𝗟a𝘁eѕ𝘵 𝘤𝗵𝖺𝗽𝘵𝘦r𝗌 о𝗇 𝗴𝗮𝗅𝗇o𝗏е𝗹ѕ.𝖼o𝗆
Ashely ran a red light, cutting hard around a taxi. “I’m trying p>
Cailin pressed her thumb lightly against the red box on the screen, as though she could reach through the glass.
“Don’t stop, baby,” she whispered. “Mommy is coming p>
The Aston Martin was a silver blur cutting through the sluggish arteries of Manhattan traffic.
Hilliard didn’t feel the steering wheel beneath his hands or the leather seat beneath him. He was a machine — an extension of the engine — driven by a single, terrifying directive.
Save her.
His phone, mounted on the dashboard, buzzed. A link from Ashely appeared on the screen.
He kept his eyes on the road. “Activate link. Project to HUD p>
The satellite feed filled the lower third of his windshield, a translucent map overlaid on the chaos of the city streets below.
“Good girl,” Hilliard muttered.
The red box was six blocks ahead. A wave of primal fury rolled through him. He had denied it, lied about it, buried it under legal technicalities and cold logic — but watching that small, vulnerable target move through his city ignited something in his gut that had nothing to do with logic. That child was his. His to protect.
He pressed a button on the steering wheel. “Gavin p>
“Sir, I have security teams mobilizing toward the docks.” Gavin’s voice was tight and breathless.
“Get the chopper ready. Now.” Hilliard swung into the oncoming lane to get around a bus. Horns erupted around him. He didn’t blink. “Airspace is restricted over the city because of the UN summit,” Gavin warned. “We can’t fly low p>
“Buy the airspace. I don’t care what it costs. Just fly.” Hilliard’s voice dropped to a controlled roar. “If you have to bribe the FAA, do it. Get eyes on that van p>
He hung up.
Across the city, in a darkened surveillance van parked one block from the English Estate, Gavin Thorne adjusted his headset. The Code Red protocol was fully active — Hilliard had stationed him here to monitor all communications in and out of the property, hunting for the thread of a conspiracy.