Chapter 6 - The RescueClaire stumbled out of the SUV, her knees nearly buckling on the wet pavement. She didn't know who this man was—whether he was an FBI agent, a Moretti loyalist, or a rival hitman—she only knew one thing.
Mia.
"Where is my daughter?!" Claire screamed, grabbing the man by the collar of his tactical vest, shaking him with a strength born of pure adrenaline and terror. "Where is Mia?!"
"She's safe," the man grunted, ducking low as another muffled shot echoed from the side alley of the house. "Your neighbor, Kate, grabbed her through the basement window five minutes before the vanguard hit. They're at the safe house down by the marina."
Before Claire could demand more answers, the front door of her house exploded outward in a shower of splintered wood and shattered glass.
Agent Vance stumbled backward onto the front porch, clutching his shoulder as blood began to soak through his navy coat. Two tactical officers rushed out behind him, returning blind fire toward the backyard shadows.
"Moretti’s clean-up crew!" Vance roared into his radio, coughing violently. "They're here! Sector four! Code red!"
The man who had freed Claire grabbed her firmly by the arm. "We have to move, Doctor. Now. Before Vance realizes you're out of the car."
"I'm not going anywhere until I see my daughter with my own eyes!" Claire fought back, trying to wrench her arm away.
"If you stay here, Vance locks you up as an accomplice, and Moretti’s rivals use you as bait to get to him!" the man yelled over the sound of gunfire. "Move!"
Realizing he was right, Claire swallowed her panic, ducked low behind the cover of the SUV, and sprinted with him toward a waiting black van parked half a block away in the shadows of an overgrown oak tree.
The van’s sliding door flew open from the inside.
A familiar, terrified voice cried out from the darkness of the vehicle.
"Mommy!"
Claire’s heart stopped. She lunged forward, diving into the back of the van just as the driver slammed on the gas.
A small, small pair of arms wrapped frantically around her neck, burying a face into her shoulder.
"Mommy, there were loud noises! I was so scared!"
Claire held her daughter tighter than she had ever held anything in her life, burying her face in Mia’s soft brown hair as silent, burning tears streamed down her cheeks.
"I've got you, baby," Claire whispered, rocking her back and forth as the van sped away into the Seattle night. "I've got you. Mommy is here. Nobody is ever going to hurt you."
Across the van, sitting in the shadows near the back doors, a figure in a black hoodie shifted.
A hand reached out to steady a bleeding left shoulder.
Dante Moretti.
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Pale, exhausted, and breathing heavily through a fresh-water bandage, he stared at Claire and Mia with a look of agonizing, heartbroken adoration.
"Dante," Claire whispered, her voice turning to ice as she pulled Mia protectively behind her. "What the hell is going on?"
