Chapter 5 - The Sanctuary in the Pines
The cabin at Safe Harbor sat on a high bluff overlooking the dark, expansive waters of Lake Michigan.
It was surrounded by towering red pines, dense fog, and a twelve-foot security fence hidden behind thick briars and wooden fencing. To any passing fisherman, it looked like a rustic hunting lodge.
To the men hunting them, it was an impenetrable fortress.
By 6:00 a.m., the sun began to rise over the horizon, casting pale pink and gold light through the heavy pine trees.
Marcus pulled the Mercedes into the hidden underground garage beneath the cabin, the heavy iron doors sliding shut behind them with a loud, hydraulic sealing noise.
Emma carried the exhausted twins inside.
The interior of the cabin was warm, smelling of cedar wood, dried lavender, and old paper. Heavy leather sofas sat around a massive river-rock fireplace. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the lake, protected by three-inch ballistic glass hidden behind heavy pine shutters.
Emma laid Grace and June down on a large feather bed in the master bedroom on the second floor.
Within minutes, both little girls were fast asleep, holding each other tightly, their breathing slow, deep, and completely peaceful. For the first time in fifty-six days, they slept without screaming, without nightmare-induced convulsions, and without the terror of the buzzing monster in their heads.
Emma sat beside the bed, gently stroking June’s hair. Tears of sheer exhaustion welled in her eyes, but she forced herself to remain awake.
A soft step sounded in the hallway. Marcus walked in, carrying a tray with two mugs of hot tea and a plate of toast.
“They’re sleeping well,” Marcus murmured, setting the tray on the nightstand.
“They’re finally safe,” Emma whispered, taking a sip of the warm tea. She looked up at the large enforcer. “What’s the situation outside?”
Marcus pulled a tablet from his coat, setting it on the bed. “Julian’s bounty has reached the dark web. Every independent mercenary team in the Midwest is looking for this vehicle. I’ve already pulled the license plates and brought the Mercedes into the subterranean bunker. We have enough food, water, and generator fuel to stay locked down here for six months.”
Emma stared at the tablet screen, which displayed live news feeds from Chicago.
Images of the burning Hamptons estate filled the screen. Fire trucks sprayed water onto the charred remains of the west wing. A sleek news anchor reported that crime lord Declan Shaw was presumed dead following a tragic domestic dispute, and that his brother-in-law, Julian Vance, had stepped in to manage the family’s vast corporate assets.
“They’re taking everything he built,” Emma said, her fingers tightening around her tea mug.
“Julian thinks he won,” Marcus said grimly. “He’s holding an emergency Syndicate summit at the Drake Hotel in Chicago on Friday night. He intends to be officially sworn in as the new head of the Shaw Syndicate.”
Emma turned her gaze back to the sleeping twins. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the small silver key Declan had given her, along with the black leather notebook.
She opened the notebook to the last page.
Written in Declan’s bold, elegant handwriting was a single sentence:
“If I do not reach the cabin by Friday midnight, open the floor safe beneath the library desk. Everything inside belongs to Emma Reed.”
Emma stared at the words. Her heart ached with a deep, crushing weight.
“He knew this might happen,” Emma whispered, her voice cracking. “He knew they would set a trap for him.”
“Declan always plans five moves ahead, Emma,” Marcus said softly. “He knew Julian was ambitious. He just never believed his own sister would torture his children to take his crown.”
Suddenly, a red light began to flash on the master security console on the bedroom wall.
A quiet, rhythmic electronic chime echoed through the cabin.
Marcus’s hand went instantly to his sidearm. He stepped toward the window, looking through the optical scope mounted near the frame.
“Someone just crossed the outer perimeter gate at the south tree line,” Marcus growled, leaning close to the glass.
Emma stood up, her pulse spiking. “Is it Julian’s men?”
Marcus adjusted the focus on the optical scope.
Through the heavy morning fog rolling off Lake Michigan, a tall, lone figure was walking slowly through the tall grass toward the cabin.
He wore a long, dark trench coat. He dragged his left leg slightly, his face obscured by a low-brimmed hat, his shoulder wrapped in heavy white bandages visible through a tear in his coat.
In his right hand, he carried a heavy steel briefcase.
Marcus gasped, his grip on his gun loosening entirely.
“It can't be,” Marcus whispered.
Emma ran to the window, pressing her hands against the glass, her heart hammering against her ribs.
The tall figure reached the front porch of the cabin. He stopped, lifting his head toward the second-story window.
May you like
Through the fog and the glass, dark, familiar eyes looked directly up at Emma.
Declan Shaw had arrived.
