Chapter 10: On the run

SCARLETT

The night splits apart in sirens and shadows.

Damien drags me down the pier, his grip a vice around my wrist.

Behind us, heavy boots pound the wooden planks closer,and closer.

My mother’s voice cuts through the wind “Go!”

I twist to look back. Moonlight catches the flash of her hair as she faces the advancing figures. Four of them now, their outlines jagged and menacing.

“Mom!” I cried, trying to wrench free, but Damien yanks me forward.

“Scarlett, move!”

The car is a dark shape at the end of the street, impossibly far. The salty air tastes of iron. Every step feels like running through water.

A crack splits the night a gunshot, sharp and unmistakable.

I stumble. “No—”

Damien pulls me behind a shipping crate. “Stay low!”

My breath comes in ragged bursts. I press a hand to my mouth, fighting the urge to scream.

Another shot. Then shouting. I can’t make out the words over the wind and the crashing waves.

“Damien,” I whisper, “we have to go back.”

His eyes are hard. “If we go back, we die.”

I push at his chest. “That’s my mother out there!”

He grips my shoulders. “Scarlett, she told us to run. Don’t waste her chance.”

Something inside me cracks, but the sound of footsteps spurs us onward.

We reach the car. Damien shoves me inside, starts the engine without headlights.

The tires screech against the wet pavement as we tear away from the docks.

Streetlights smear across the windshield like streaks of fire. My heartbeat matches the thrum of the engine.

“Call the police,” I say. My voice shakes but holds.

Damien doesn’t answer. His jaw is clenched so tight it looks painful.

“Damien—call them!”

He finally speaks, voice flat. “And tell them what? That a gang ambushed your mother because she had evidence of a smuggling ring your father died for? They’ll think we’re out of our minds.”

“She could be—” I can’t say the word. “We have to do something.”

He glances at me, eyes dark. “We need to survive first.”

We don’t stop until we’re miles from the city, parked on a deserted overlook above the river.

The car engine ticks as it cools. Wind rattles the branches overhead.

I clutch the flash drive in my fist. It feels heavier than steel.

Damien finally breaks the silence. “What’s on it?”

“I don’t know.” My throat is raw. “She said it’s proof.”

He runs a hand through his hair, the streetlight catching the tension in his muscles. “Then we need to see what kind of proof.”

My phone buzzes. I flinch, expecting another unknown number. But it’s Rachel.

WHERE ARE YOU? Cops are everywhere. Your house is surrounded.

I swallow a cry. “They’re at my house,” I whisper.

Damien leans closer. “Police or them?”

“I don’t know.”

Another buzz, this time a photo flashing red and blue lights reflected in our driveway.

Relief and dread twist together. If it’s the police, maybe Mom called for help. But what if those lights are just a disguise?

Damien starts the car. “We can’t go back yet.”

I turn to him, anger flaring through the fear. “That’s my home.”

“And it’s the first place they’ll look,” he says sharply. “You want them to find that drive?”

His words cut because they’re true.

We find a 24-hour diner off the highway. Its neon sign flickers like a dying heartbeat. Inside, the smell of fried food and stale coffee wraps around us.

We slide into a back booth. I open my laptop with trembling hands and insert the flash drive.

A single encrypted folder appears. Password protected.

Damien leans over my shoulder. “Try a date.”

I type 0607 and the folder unlocks.

Dozens of files spill onto the screen, spreadsheets, invoices, offshore bank statements. At the top, a video file marked Midnight Truth.

I click play.

The footage is grainy but clear enough. My father, sitting in a dim office, eyes hollow.

“If you’re watching this,” his voice says, “I’m probably dead.”

I clap a hand over my mouth.

He continues, “The shipment isn’t what they claim. They’re smuggling weapons, using the docks as cover. I kept records. If anything happens to me, Maria knows where the evidence is. Tell our daughter I’m sorry.”

The video cuts off.

The diner’s clatter fades to silence around us.

I can barely breathe. “He knew,” I whisper. “He knew they’d kill him.” And all this while I was suspecting my mother as his murderer.

Damien’s eyes are fixed on the screen. “This could bring them all down.”

My chest tightens. “And Mom… she’s been hiding this for years.”

The door chime rings. Two men entered heavy coats, rain dripping from their collars. They glance around the diner.

Something in the way their eyes sweep the room makes my stomach drop.

Damien notices too. “Don’t look,” he murmurs. “They followed us.”

I snap the laptop shut. “What do we do?”

“Bathroom window,” he says under his breath. “Go. Now.”

Heart hammering, I slide out of the booth and walk toward the back as casually as I can. Behind me, a chair scrapes. Footsteps follows.

I push into the restroom, lock the door, and cross to the tiny window above the sink. It sticks, then gives way with a groan. Cold air floods in.

Damien appears behind me. “Go first.”

I climb out, dropping onto the wet grass behind the diner. Damien lands silently beside me.

A shout echoes from inside. “They’re gone!”

We sprint into the dark.

By the time we reach the car, rain is pouring. Damien drives with one hand, the other gripping a pistol I hadn’t noticed before.

My phone buzzes again another unknown number.

I showed him the message.

His jaw tightens. “Trap.”

“Or it’s her,” I say. “We can’t ignore it.”

He glances at me, rain streaking the windshield like veins of silver. “If we go, we’re walking straight into their hands.”

“She’s my mother,” I say, voice breaking. “I can’t just let her disappear.”

Damien exhales, a sound full of conflict. “Then we plan it our way.”

We spend the next hour preparing. Damien drives to a storage unit on the edge of town and unlocks a metal door, revealing a stash of equipment, flashlights, rope, even a second handgun.

I stare. “You were ready for this.”

“I hoped I’d never need it,” he replies.

He hands me a flashlight and a small can of pepper spray. “Stay close to me. No matter what happens, you don’t run off. Understand?”

I nod, though fear twists through every nerve.

The old lighthouse rises from the cliffs like a jagged tooth, waves crashing below. The storm has moved out to sea, leaving the night raw and sharp.

We approach on foot, the path slick with rain. My flashlight beam cuts through the mist.

At the base of the lighthouse, the door hangs slightly open.

Damien motions for silence and pushes it wider.

Inside, the air smells of salt and rust. The spiral staircase groans under our steps as we climb.

Halfway up, a voice echoes from above. “Scarlett.”

My breath catches. “Mom?”

We reach the lantern room. My mother stands in the moonlight, pale but unhurt. Relief floods me so hard my knees almost buckle.

But before I can reach her, a figure steps from the shadows a tall man in a dark coat, a gun gleaming in his hand.

“Hand it over,” he says, voice like gravel. “The drive.”

Damien moves in front of me, weapon raised. “Not happening.”

The man smirks. “Two bullets. I can take you both.”

Maria speaks quickly, eyes locked on me. “Scarlett, listen. He’s the one who ordered your father’s death. He wants the evidence.”

The man’s smile widens. “Smart woman. Now give it to me, and maybe you all walk out alive.”

My fingers tighten around the flash drive in my pocket. The world narrows to the space between us, to the tiny object that could destroy him or destroy us.

Damien whispers without turning, “When I say run, you run.”

But before he can move, a sudden light floods the room red and blue, flashing through the lighthouse windows.

A booming voice echoes from below. “Police! Drop your weapons!”

The man curses, spinning toward the stairwell. Damien lunges.

The gunshot is deafening.

For a heartbeat, everything freezes the smell of gunpowder, the salt air, my mother’s gasp.

The man crumples, weapon skittering across the floor.

Damien stands over him, chest heaving, gun still raised.

Police boots thunder up the stairs. Officers burst into the room, weapons drawn. Shouts filled the air “Hands up! Don’t move!”

I raise my shaking hands, the flash drive warm against my palm, my heart pounding with a single, dizzying thought.

I said to myself. “The truth is finally out but at what cost?”.