Chapter 18: The Drop

Grace dashed into the freight elevator shaft as mayhem exploded behind her. Derek was shouting commands, his associates were hurrying to intercept, and somewhere amid the commotion, she heard the distinct sound of firearms drawn.

The slightly open elevator doors loomed ahead, her lone chance of survival in a structure built to be a tomb. Derek's warning of cut wires and flooded basements lingered in her mind, but staying meant certain death, but jumping meant possible death, and possibility was far better than certain.

She dove through the elevator doors just as bullets sounded out behind her, deafening the concrete area.

Her hands discovered the heavy steel wires Derek claimed were severed, and to her great relief, they supported her weight as she began a controlled plummet into darkness.

The shaft was a vertical tube of black metal and concrete, illuminated only by feeble emergency lighting that formed spooky shadows on the walls as she climbed and plunged toward the basement levels. Her hands burned against the rough cable, her shoulders screamed with strain, but adrenaline kept her sliding downhill into the unknown.

Above her, Derek's words boomed down the shaft: "Find another way down! "She couldn't have gone very far!"

Grace went from the second to the first floor, eventually reaching what appeared to be the

basement level. 

The elevator doors stood wide open, displaying the flooded room that Derek had described. However, the water was only around three feet deep and did not contain any toxic industrial waste.

It was clean groundwater from the recent rains, which transformed the basement into a temporary indoor pond that reflected her phone's flashlight like a mirror.

Derek had lied about the depth of the sea, most likely in an attempt to discourage her recent escape attempt. But why lie about something so easily proven unless he was more desperate to keep her upstairs than he admitted?

The answer came as she waded through knee-deep water toward what appeared to be a loading dock on the far side of the basement.

Derek's entire plan had relied on controlling the narrative, convincing her that escape was impossible while his associates killed the only witness to their scheme.

But Derek had made the same mistake that had placed him in prison eight years before: he'd underestimated the individuals he was attempting to govern.

The loading dock doors were chained shut, but the chains were old, and the locks had corroded from years of dampness. Grace discovered a piece of metal rebar in the debris and used it as a lever, pressing down until the lock mechanism snapped with a satisfying crack.

The doors opened onto an alley behind the warehouse, and the evening air rushed in like salvation. 

Grace stumbled out into the fading daylight, soaked and drained but alive, her phone already connected to Santos' number as she distanced herself from Derek's trap.

"Santos, do you copy?" I'm out of the building, alive, and headed east on……."

"Grace! Thank God. We lost your signal around an hour ago. "Where are you?"

She gave him her location as she ran down the main street, turning back to see individuals moving in the warehouse windows above. Derek's associates would look for a different path down, but they'd lost the element of surprise and the benefit of controlled terrain.

"Multiple units are en route to your location," Santos stated. "Are Derek and his associates still in the building?"

"Third floor, east side." Santos, they were about to kill me. "This was not a discussion; it was an assasination."

"We're moving in immediately. Stay on the line and move away from the building."

Grace arrived at the main street as police sirens converged from all directions. Behind her, the warehouse neighborhood was about to become a crime scene, Derek's well organized strategy collapsing into the type of law enforcement response he'd spent years avoiding.

Her phone vibrated with an incoming call. Max's name appeared on the screen.

"Grace! Santos called and said you were……..are you hurt? "Are you safe?"

"I'm fine." Scared, weary, and likely to have nightmares for months, but that's good.

"I'm going to get you."

No, Max. Stay in the safe house until Santos gives the all-clear. Derek had three trained murderers with him, and I'm not sure if they're still in the building."

"I don't care. I am not leaving you alone out there."

The intense emotion in his voice made her chest ache. Despite everything they'd been through, all the stress and uncertainty and desperate planning, Max was still willing to give up everything to be with her.

"I love you," she mumbled, the words carrying the weight of everything she'd thought she'd never be ready to express again.

"I love you, too. More than I imagined it was possible to love a person.

Police cars were now flooding the area, tactical teams rushing toward the warehouse with such precision that Derek's evening was going to get much worse. Grace found herself resting against a streetlight, observing the operation with a mix of satisfaction and amazement.

Six hours earlier, she had planned a peaceful dinner with Elena. She was now seeing armed

tactical teams surround a building where she had almost been killed by professional crooks.

"Ma'am?" A uniformed officer approached her cautiously. "Detective Santos asked me to escort you to a secure location."

"Is it over?" she inquired.

"Ma'am?"

"Derek Voss, his associates…….are they contained?"

The officer's radio hummed with tactical team updates. Multiple individuals are in arrest, the building has been secured, and there have been no law enforcement casualties.

"Sounds like it's over," the officer added.

But while Grace sat in the back of his patrol cruiser, she couldn't shake the sensation that Derek's arrest was only the start of a much longer process. There would be trials, evidence, and the threat of retribution from his criminal colleagues who remained at large.

Most importantly, she and Max would have to decide what to do next. Their love had been created during a crisis, tested by extraordinary conditions, and shown strong enough to withstand psychological warfare and attempted murder.

Now they'd have to see if it was sturdy enough to withstand peace.

The phone rang again. Max's contact photo filled the screen, a candid shot she'd taken of him preparing breakfast with flour in his hair and a focused expression on his face as he flipped pancakes.

Such a regular event from what seems like another lifetime.

"The officer said they're bringing you to the safe house," Max stated without explanation. "I'll be waiting."

"Max?"

"Yeah?"

"When this is all over, when Derek's has been put to prison and the trials are completed and we don't have to look over our shoulders anymore……... .what will be left of us?"

The question sat between them, carrying the weight of all they'd learned about each other over the previous week.

"I don't know," Max finally answered. "But I want to find out."

As the patrol car drove away from the warehouse district, Grace noticed the emergency lights fading in the rear windshield and considered second chances. Derek had spent eight years plotting his retribution, leading up to this point of confrontation, and it had all crumbled in a single evening.

But for her and Max, the real narrative had just begun.