Chapter 3 - Echoes from the UnderworldClara held her breath, her heart hammering against her ribs. Through the skeleton frame of the unfinished front porch, she watched Daniel melt into the dense shadows of the tree line with terrifying speed and silence. Bane followed his master like a wraith of black smoke.
Minutes stretched into an eternity. The mountain wind whispered through the pines, carrying the distant, mocking sound of crunching gravel.
Then came the voices—harsh, clipped, and utterly out of place in the serene wilderness.
"Check the perimeter," a cold, metallic voice barked. "Boss wants the package secured by sundown. If the old man hid anything else out here, we’re burning it to the ground."
The Boss? Clara’s mind raced. These weren't local gossips or curious hikers. These men spoke with the chilling efficiency of hardened criminals.
A sudden scuffle erupted in the brush—a dull thud, a sharp gasp, and the heavy thud of a body hitting the forest floor. Daniel stepped back into the clearing dragging an unconscious man dressed in high-end tactical gear, an expensive silk tie poking out beneath a tactical vest. Bane trotted closely behind, carrying a sleek, suppressed Glock pistol in his jaws, which he proudly dropped at Daniel's feet.
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Daniel calmly picked up the weapon, ejecting the magazine and pocketing the rounds. He looked up toward the porch where Clara stood frozen.
"We have company," Daniel said grimly, his voice devoid of fear, laced only with dangerous resolve. "And they aren't here to look at the view."
