Chapter 3 - Ambush in the Dark
"Get out of the car! Move, you little rat!"
A thick, gravelly voice roared in my ear as a pair of massive arms dragged me out onto the asphalt of the diner parking lot. Glass shards cut into my knees as I hit the ground, but survival instinct took over. I twisted my body, driving my elbow hard into my attacker's ribs.
The man grunted, releasing his grip momentarily. I scrambled to my feet, clutching the black lockbox and the flash drive tightly to my chest.
Standing before me were two towering men in identical black tactical jackets. Their faces were obscured by dark ski masks, but their builds were unmistakable—professional enforcers, the kind of muscle that white-collar criminals like Marcus Vance hired when courtrooms and lawyers weren't enough.
"Grab the box!" the first enforcer yelled, recovering from my elbow strike and lunging forward with terrifying speed.
I bolted, sprinting toward the rear of the diner where a maze of commercial grease traps and metal dumpsters formed a labyrinth of shadows. Behind me, heavy boots pounded against the pavement.
"Stop right there or I'll put a bullet in your spine!" the second man shouted, pulling a heavy-duty firearm from his holster.
A deafening crack split the night air. A bullet slammed into the brick wall two inches above my head, showering me in red masonry dust.
Panicked, I ducked behind a massive industrial dumpster just as another round ricocheted off the metal bin with a high-pitched metallic whine. My lungs burned, and my heart hammered like a trapped bird. I was out of shape, exhausted from three years of prison food and concrete floors, and these men were apex predators.
Think, Leo, think! I told myself, gripping the flash drive in my pocket.
Peeking around the edge of the dumpster, I saw them approaching cautiously, weapons raised, sweeping the dark corners of the alleyway. They were splitting up—one coming around the left side of the dumpster, the other circling through the narrow gap between the brick wall and the delivery truck.
I waited until the first enforcer stepped past the corner of the metal bin. As he swung his flashlight around, I kicked the heavy steel lid of the dumpster upward with all my remaining strength.
The metal lid slammed squarely into the man's chest, sending him crashing backward onto his back with a groan of agony.
Before the second enforcer could round the truck, I bolted through the gap, sprinting past the delivery truck and leaping over a low wooden fence into the adjacent residential neighborhood.
I didn't stop running until my legs felt like lead, my breath coming in ragged, painful gasps. I ducked into the overgrown backyard of an abandoned Victorian house, collapsing behind a thick row of overgrown boxwood hedges.
For twenty minutes, I listened intently to the night. Distant sirens wailed somewhere across the city, but no footsteps followed me here. I had shaken them—for now.
Slowly, I pulled out my phone. The screen was cracked from the scuffle, but it still held a 40% charge.
May you like
I needed a secure place to plug in that USB drive. I needed someone tech-savvy who wasn't tied to the city's corrupt corporate network. And as I stared at the dark windows of the old house, I realized there was only one person left in this city who owed my family a debt of honor: Marcus's own lead IT engineer from four years ago, a man named Julian Vance—no relation to Marcus, despite the last name—whom my father had secretly helped escape corporate blacklisting right before my trial.
If Julian was still in the city, he might be my only lifeline.
