Chapter 4 - The House of Lies
They rode in silence inside a battered 2008 grey sedan. The wipers slapped rhythmically against the windshield as rain poured down in sheets. Leo sat in the passenger seat, gazing out at the neon city lights reflecting off the wet asphalt.
"Dad?" Leo asked softly.
"Yeah, Leo?"
"Who was that man with the knife? He knew my name. He knew your name."
Arthur gripped the steering wheel harder, his knuckles turning white. "He was an old acquaintance from a job I used to do before you were born."
"A job where you hurt people?"
Arthur didn't answer right away. He navigated the car down a narrow, winding road that led up into the forested hills outside the city, far away from the sirens and streetlights. "A job where I stopped bad people from hurting innocent ones. But I retired so I could raise you. I promised your mother before she passed away that you would have a normal life."
Leo looked down at his small hands. "Am I normal, Dad?"
Arthur slowed the car down as they reached an isolated, two-story wooden cabin hidden beneath tall pine trees. "Of course you are."
"Then why don't I feel scared?" Leo asked quietly. "When that man put the knife near me... I didn't feel afraid. I felt... like I was waiting for him to make a mistake."
Arthur’s heart sank. He looked at his seven-year-old boy. The unsettling truth was starting to surface. The training hadn't just been basic self-defense—it was instinctual. It was in Leo's DNA.
They stepped into the cabin. Arthur immediately walked to the fireplace, reached inside the cold brick chimney, and pulled a hidden lever. With a heavy groan, the bookshelf in the corner slid open, revealing a hidden stairwell leading down into a reinforced basement command center.
"Downstairs. Now," Arthur commanded.
They descended into the concrete bunker. Wall-to-wall monitors showed live satellite feeds, radio frequency scanners, and wiretaps. Weapons were neatly arranged in locked steel racks alongside medical kits and forged passports.
Arthur sat Leo down on a stool and immediately brought up the encrypted satellite feed from the bank.
The bank building on the screen was surrounded by fire trucks and police units. But Arthur wasn't looking at the fire. He was looking at the thermal imaging logs captured by his private satellite five minutes before the robbery started.
He zoomed in on the bank's rooftop.
Standing on the roof during the robbery wasn't a sniper or a getaway driver. It was a woman in a tailored black suit, holding a high-tech tablet, directing Marcus and his partner via radio.
When Arthur enhanced the image and cleared the pixelation, his breathing stopped.
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The woman on the roof was Sarah Vance.
His wife. The woman he had buried four years ago.
