Chapter 4: The Safe House
We drove for fourteen hours, crossing state lines until the landscape shifted into the dense, towering pines of the Pacific Northwest. My father finally turned off the main highway, navigating a series of unmarked dirt logging roads that seemed to lead to the edge of the world.
At the end of a heavily overgrown path sat a rustic wooden cabin. It looked abandoned, blending perfectly into the forest.
"Home sweet home," my father said, killing the engine.
As we stepped out, the front door of the cabin swung open. A woman stepped onto the porch, holding a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a high-powered hunting rifle in the other. It was my mother. She wore rugged boots, cargo pants, and a tactical vest.
"Mom!" I cried out, running up the steps to embrace her.
She hugged me fiercely, her warmth the only familiar thing in this chaotic new reality. "Oh, my brave girl," she whispered, kissing my forehead. "I saw the news. You did beautifully."
She looked over my shoulder at my father. "Frank. Vance is burning. The Justice Department just issued a warrant for his arrest based on the cartel ties in the leaked files."
"What about Robert?" my father asked, his tone shifting back to business.
My mother’s face darkened. "He survived the night in holding. Someone bailed him out under a federal mandate. The syndicate got to him before the regular cops could process the severity of the leak."
My father cursed under his breath. "If they have Robert, they have a psychological profile on Mia. They'll use him to predict our
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"Let them try," I said, surprising myself with the steadiness of my own voice. Both my parents looked at me. I wasn't shaking anymore. The bruise on my collarbone ached, but it felt like a battle scar rather than a mark of victimhood. "He thinks I'm still the quiet, obedient wife. He doesn't know what I'm capable of now."
My father smiled, a dangerous, proud glint in his eye. "Then I suppose it's time we start your training."
