Chapter 6 - THE SAFE HOUSE
For three long seconds, Declan stared at her in total silence.
Then, deep in his chest, a low rumble began, expanding into a loud, genuine laugh that echoed off the damp concrete walls of the underground tunnel. It was not the bitter, broken laugh he had offered days ago. It was a real, powerful sound—the laugh of a man who had stared death in the face and found something utterly absurd in the middle of it.
“A check,” he muttered, shaking his head as he dragged himself up into a sitting position against the metal wall. “Four thousand dollars for a maid who acts like a soldier.”
“I’m not a soldier,” Narin said, her breathing finally starting to stabilize. “I’m an underpaid worker who refuses to die in an eviction notice.”
Declan’s expression softened slightly, a rare warmth breaking through his harsh, scarred features. “Where is the emergency wheelchair?” he asked, gesturing down the long concrete corridor. “There should be a storage locker twenty yards down.”
Narin stood up on shaky legs, walked down the damp corridor, and located a heavy metal locker marked with a red cross. Inside was a compact, manual transport wheelchair. She unfolded it, wheeled it back to the elevator, and positioned it beside Declan.
Without waiting to be asked, she leaned down, hauled his heavy upper body up by his arms, and assisted him into the seat.
Declan settled into the chair, adjusting his charcoal wool jacket. He looked up at her, his eyes serious once again.
“The tunnel leads out to a hidden garage near the north perimeter of the woods,” he explained, pointing toward the darkness ahead. “I have an armored sedan stored there. The keys are in the ignition.”
“Can you drive it?” Narin asked.
“It has hand controls,” he replied quietly. “I had it modified two years ago, back when I still thought I would have a reason to leave this estate.”
Narin stepped behind the handles of the manual wheelchair and began pushing him down the concrete tunnel.
Ten minutes later, they emerged into a small, concealed underground garage hidden beneath an abandoned tool shed at the edge of the estate's vast property line. A matte-black armored sedan sat waiting in the shadows.
Narin helped him transfer into the driver’s seat, watching as he effortlessly adjusted the hand controls mounted beneath the steering wheel.
“Get in,” Declan said, nodding toward the passenger side.
May you like
Narin climbed into the leather interior, pulling the heavy, reinforced door shut.
As Declan started the powerful V8 engine, he looked across the console at her. “We’re going to a safe house in the city. The Rossy family will assume I died in the mansion fire. We have work to do.”
