Chapter 6 - The Breach
"How did they track us?" Claire panicked, snatching the silver laptop and stuffing it into her canvas bag.
"The laptop," Mark cursed, tearing at his hair. "The second we decrypted the drive and connected to the cloud server to pull Eleanor’s data, it pinged a hardcoded IP ping back to Holloway Technologies' main security hub! It was a honeypot trigger!"
A heavy explosion shook the warehouse door down the hall. Sparks flew from the metal frame as a breaching charge blew the locks completely off the hinges.
"Move!" Mark screamed, grabbing a portable hard drive off his desk and shoving Claire and Mia toward the rear fire exit. "Go down the service ladder! I’ll wipe the local servers so they can't track where the cloud data went!"
"Mark, no! Come with us!" Claire yelled over the sound of heavy boots echoing down the hallway.
"I can delay them through the security system!" Mark shouted, sitting back down and slamming his hands onto his keyboard, initiating a site-wide lockdown of the building's electrical doors. "Go! Take Mia! Save her mother!"
Claire looked at her brother, tears sting in her eyes. Mark gave her a fierce, determined nod.
Claire grabbed Mia’s hand and pulled her through the heavy rear door just as men in black tactical gear burst into the main loft area, shouting commands.
Mia and Claire rushed down the dark, narrow iron fire escape in the pouring rain. Below them, the alley was blocked by two massive black Escalades. Men with flashlights were already fanning out at the base of the stairs.
Up! Claire signed frantically, pointing to the roof ladder. We go across the roofs!
Mia nodded, her fear vanishing, replaced by a cold, desperate courage she had inherited from her mother.
They scrambled up the slippery metal rungs, reaching the gravel roof of the warehouse just as tactical lights illuminated the metal stairs below them. Shots rang out—silenced thuds that hit the brick wall near Claire’s head, showering her with concrete dust.
"Run!" Claire screamed out loud, pushing Mia ahead.
They sprinted across the slick gravel roof of the converted warehouse. The rain was blinding, the wind howling around them. The gap between the warehouse roof and the adjacent commercial building was about eight feet—a terrifying drop down into a narrow, trash-filled alley below.
Mia didn't hesitate. She launched herself across the gap, her sneakers slicking on the wet brick ledge, but she caught herself, scrambling onto the neighboring roof.
Claire reached the edge, looked down at the dark drop, and felt a wave of dizziness.
"Claire!" Mia signed from the other side, her hands moving wildly through the rain. JUMP! I HAVE YOU!
Claire took three steps back, gritted her teeth, and leaped into the storm.
Her boots hit the edge of the adjacent roof, but she slipped, her knees slamming against the concrete ledge. The heavy bag containing the laptop nearly pulled her backward into the abyss.
Mia’s hands caught Claire’s coat collar with incredible strength, hauling her up onto the roof.
They fell together onto the gravel, panting, soaked to the bone, staring up at the dark Seattle sky.
Across the gap, on the warehouse roof they had just left, a tall figure walked to the ledge.
He was wearing an expensive trench coat over his tuxedo, an umbrella held over his head by an assistant.
Graham Holloway.
He stood at the edge of the roof, looking down at his daughter across the gap. Through the driving rain and the darkness, his eyes met Mia’s.
Graham slowly raised a megaphone to his mouth. His voice boomed over the sound of the rain and the wind, cold, calculated, and terrifyingly clear.
"Mia! Bring me the laptop and come home! You don't know what you are doing! You are sick, Mia! You need your treatment!"
Mia stood up slowly on the wet roof.
She stared at her father—the billionaire, the powerful man who had built an empire on lies, who had locked her mother away in a dark room, who had tried to erase her language and her mind.
She didn't use her voice. She didn't bow her head.
Mia lifted both hands high into the storm light, right where her father and his security team could see them.
She signed three words, slow, sharp, and unforgettable:
May you like
MY MOTHER LIVES.
Then she turned her back on him, grabbed Claire’s hand, and vanished into the night.
