The heavy iron doors of the warehouse slammed against the rusted frame, sending a shower of orange dust into the freezing dawn air. Footsteps—slow, deliberate, and echoing like gunshots—approached the corner where I held the little girl against my chest. Her fingers dug into the denim of my jacket, her breathing ragged with a mixture of terror and recognition.

The air in the tunnel suddenly felt ice cold.

“You… you have my brother?” I stammered, stepping toward him.

“I placed him in a safehouse in Canada under an alias,” Vane said, his voice firm despite the blood seeping through his coat. “I kept him alive because his testimony is the only thing that can destroy Vance’s entire syndicate. I was waiting for the right moment to expose Vance to the Federal Courts.”

“Why didn't you tell me? I spent six months thinking he was dead!”

“Because if Vance knew you had contact with Leo, he would have killed you six months ago,” Vane replied sharply. “Missing that bus last night wasn't an accident, Maya. Vance’s men cut the fuel line on your bus line. They’ve been monitoring you for weeks, waiting for Leo to try and contact you. They wanted you to lead them to him.”

The realization hit me like a physical blow. The ruined shoe, the dead phone, the late bus—it was all a setup by the detective I had trusted to find my missing brother.

“They never intended to let you leave that warehouse alive,” Vane added softly. “If you hadn't found Clara, Vance’s hitmen would have executed you in that alley and made it look like a robbery.”

A loud metallic crunch echoed from the start of the tunnel behind us. Vance’s thermite torch was already cutting through the hatch bar.

“We don't have time,” Vane said, pulling a encrypted sat-phone from his inner pocket and shoving it into my hands. “This phone has one contact saved: ‘Lazarus.’ That is your brother’s secure line. If we make it out of this tunnel, you call him.”

“If we make it out?” I asked, sensing the finality in his tone.

Vane looked down at his daughter. Clara reached up, her small hand touching her father’s scarred cheek.

“Papa, please,” she whimpered.

Vane knelt down, kissing her forehead. “Listen to me, Clara. You go with Maya. She kept you safe in the dark, and she will keep you safe now.”

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with a terrifying, desperate trust. “Take my daughter to the river dock. There is a grey speedboat moored under the bridge. The key is under the dashboard. Get her out of the city.”