Chapter 5 - The Ambush at the River
"They tracked the SUV," Leo swore under his breath, drawing two handguns from his shoulder holsters. "We fight our way out."
"No," I said, grabbing his arm. "If we open fire on state troopers, we prove everything they said about me. They want me dead so this book vanishes. We get out through the storm drain."
"Storm drain?" Leo looked at me like I had lost my mind.
"My father built the drainage system for this entire block in '92," I said, pulling the steel floor panel completely out of its frame to reveal a secondary drop-chute lined with iron rungs. "It leads directly to the San Antonio River walk outlet, two miles south."
I stuffed the red notebook and flash drives into an airtight leather bag, slung it over my shoulder, and dropped down into the dark abyss of the chute. Leo cursed under his breath and followed, slamming the floorboard shut above us just as the front door was battered down with a thunderous crash.
The drop was twenty feet into a narrow, concrete tunnel filled with knee-deep rushing rainwater. The roar of the storm echoed wildly inside the dark pipeline.
We ran.
Every step was a battle against the rushing current. My body, weakened by years of prison food and lack of sun, screamed in pain, but the memory of Chloe’s voice pushed me forward. The red notebook is under Grandpa's floorboard. She had done her part. Now I had to do mine.
After twenty minutes of wading through the dark, icy torrent, the tunnel widened, and the dim light of the city reflected off the swirling waters of the river outlet ahead.
We burst through the metal grate out into the pouring rain near an abandoned industrial park on the edge of the city.
"We made it," Leo panted, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.
"Not yet," a cold, smooth voice came from the shadows of the concrete overpass.
A man stepped forward into the streetlight's glow. He wore a long dark trench coat, holding a heavy black umbrella in one hand and a silenced pistol in the other.
It was Assistant District Attorney Marcus Vance.
Behind him stood four men in tactical gear, their rifles trained directly on our chests.
"I must admit, Gavin," Vance said, his voice dripping with arrogance, "you’ve proven far more resilient than I anticipated. Breaking out of a state transport, finding Arthur's little secret chest... impressive for a thug."
"It's over, Vance," I said, holding up the leather bag. "Everything you did, every bribe you took, every murder you ordered—it's all right here. My attorney already has copies of the property records."
Vance laughed, a dry, lifeless sound. "Elena Vance? Your bright little attorney? She’s currently being detained at the federal building on suspicion of harboring a fugitive and obstruction of justice. No one is coming to save you, Gavin. And as for your sweet little daughter..."
May you like
My blood turned to liquid fire. "If you touch Chloe, I will tear you apart with my bare hands."
"Oh, I won't touch her," Vance sneered, raising his pistol slowly toward my head. "Once you are dead—shot while resisting arrest—she will simply remain in state care. A quiet, forgotten orphan. Now, hand over the bag."
