2026-01-14 17:21:26
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Chapter Sixty-Four
Getting Torres up the stairs was harder than getting him down.Marcus supported most of his weight. Torres's arm draped over his shoulders. The young man's breathing labored. Each step a visible effort.But he didn't complain. Didn't ask to stop. Just kept moving. One step at a time. Determined.Sarah was ahead of them. Weapon ready. Checking the church entrance. Making sure the way was clear.Behind them, Devereaux climbed slowly. Hands still zip-tied. Marcus kept glancing back. Making sure he didn't try anything. Didn't attempt to escape or signal someone.But Devereaux just climbed. Calm. Unhurried. Like this was routine. Like being a hostage was just another Tuesday.They reached the top. The church basement door opened into a hallway. Dark. Quiet. Empty.Sarah moved first. Clearing the space. Checking corners. Making sure no one was waiting.Marcus followed with Torres. The hallway led to a side exit. Less visible than the main entrance. Less likely to be watched.Sarah pushed op
Chapter Sixty-Three
The first hour passed slowly.Sarah sat near the basement window. The high one that let in thin streams of daylight. She could see a sliver of street from here. Sidewalk. Passing feet. Cars occasionally.Normal city activity. People going about their lives. Completely unaware that three fugitives and a hostage were hiding fifteen feet below them.She checked her watch. 11:47 AM.Two hours and thirteen minutes until the drop.Sarah's body ached. Everything hurt. Her legs. Her back. Her shoulders. Days of running. Days of stress. Days of surviving on adrenaline and willpower.The crash was coming. She could feel it. That deep exhaustion that went beyond physical. That touched something fundamental. Something that couldn't be fixed with sleep or food or rest.But she couldn't crash yet. Had to stay alert. Had to keep moving. Had to see this through.Across the basement, Marcus was with Torres. Checking vitals. Adjusting the bandage. Keeping the young man stable.Torres was awake now. Luc
Chapter Sixty-Two
Marcus watched Devereaux's face.The man was good. Had to give him that. Controlled. Showing almost nothing. Just that slight tension. That microscopic tightening around the eyes.But Marcus had interrogated enough people to read the signs. To see past the facade. To recognize when someone was weighing their options. Calculating their odds.Devereaux was scared. Not panicked. Not breaking. But scared enough to consider cooperation.That was progress.Sarah held the knife steady. Not threatening with it. Not making gestures. Just holding it. Visible. Present. A reminder of what could happen.The silence stretched. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty.Finally Devereaux spoke. "What exactly do you want? Specifically.""Medical supplies," Sarah said immediately. "Antibiotics. Painkillers. Surgical dressings. Everything needed to treat a gunshot wound properly.""And?""Transport. A vehicle we can trust. Something without GPS. Without tracking. Something that won't lead your people straight to us.
Chapter Sixty-One
The church basement looked different in daylight.Not that there was much daylight down here. Just thin streams coming through the high window wells. Enough to see by. Enough to navigate the cluttered space.But different. Less safe somehow. Less hidden.Sarah pushed the thought away. This was what they had. Would have to be enough.She helped Marcus get Torres down the stairs. Slow. Careful. Each step making Torres wince. His face getting whiter with each descent.By the bottom, he was barely conscious. Just hanging between them. Dead weight.They laid him on the floor. On a pile of old donated blankets Sarah had found in a corner. Not comfortable. But better than concrete.Torres's breathing was shallow again. Fast. The exertion had taken its toll. Reopened the wound partially. Fresh blood staining the makeshift bandage."We need real medical supplies," Marcus said. Looking at the wound. At Torres. "This isn't going to hold much longer. He needs a hospital.""Hospital means police.
Chapter Sixty
Sarah moved the instant she saw Marcus nod.Her hands left Torres's wound. Grabbed the armed man closest to her. The one standing just to her right. His weapon pointed down. Relaxed. Confident.Mistake.Sarah's hand shot up. Grabbed the barrel of his gun. Twisted hard. Leveraging his wrist. Using his own grip against him.The man gasped. Tried to pull back. But Sarah was already moving. Already inside his guard. Her elbow drove into his throat. Hard. Precise.He choked. Stumbled backward. The weapon came free in Sarah's hands.She spun. Brought the gun up. Fired.The other armed man behind Marcus was turning. Weapon coming around. Too slow.Sarah's shot caught him in the shoulder. He spun. Dropped his weapon. Fell.Marcus was moving too. Had launched himself at Devereaux. Tackled him off his chair. Both men hitting the concrete floor hard.The weapon Devereaux had been holding skittered away across the floor. Out of reach.Sarah tracked it with her eyes. Couldn't get to it. Too far. T
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Marcus could feel Devereaux studying him. The man's eyes were sharp. Calculating. Looking for cracks. For inconsistencies. For any sign that Marcus was holding back. And he was holding back. Of course he was. The trick was making the lies sound like truth. Making the omissions seem like complete disclosure. It was a skill Marcus had learned years ago. In interrogation training. Then refined in the field. When you were captured, and eventually everyone got captured, you gave them something. Enough truth to seem cooperative. Enough detail to seem honest. But never everything. Never the things that mattered most. "Tell me about your network," Devereaux said. "Your contacts. The people who've been helping you. Supporting you." Marcus had expected this question. Had prepared an answer. "There is no network. Not anymore. Everyone who helped us is dead or disappeared. The safe houses got hit. The contacts went dark. We've been on our own for days." "That's convenient. And convenient
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