Chapter 10 - Roses and Reckoning
The amber glow of the computer monitors seemed to dim as I stared at the phone screen in absolute disbelief.
"Marcus," I whispered, my voice trembling as I handed the phone up to him. "Look at this. Derek... he's out."
Marcus took the phone, his eyes scanning the notification. A dark, dangerous shadow crossed his face, instantly replacing the warmth that had been there just moments before.
"A corrupt judge," Marcus said flatly, his jaw tightening. "They must have rushed an emergency bond hearing through a midnight docket before the federal indictments dropped. They think Derek is their only link left to get that thumb drive back."
"He knows where I live," I gasped, panic clawing at my throat once more. "He knows my sister, he knows my friends... where is he going to go?"
"He's not going anywhere," Marcus said, his voice dropping into that lethal, absolute register that brooked no argument. He walked over to a heavy steel locker against the back wall, popped the combination lock, and pulled out a matte-black tactical case.
"Marcus, what are you doing?" I asked, standing up with Lily in my arms.
"Finishing the job," Marcus said coldly, snapping the case open to reveal a sleek, tactical shotgun and a heavy zip-tie kit. "Victor Vance and his cronies might think they can buy their way out of this with corrupt judges and midnight bail bonds, but they didn't factor in one thing."
"What's that?" I breathed.
"They're on my street," Marcus said, stepping toward the hidden exit.
Before he could reach the door, the front doorbell of the main house chimed—once, twice, three times. Loud, aggressive, demanding.
I froze, clutching Lily so tight against my chest she let out a tiny grunt of protest.
Marcus held up a hand, signaling me to stay silent. He slipped the shotgun behind his back, moving with absolute, lethal grace toward the hallway leading to the front foyer.
I crept silently behind him, peeking around the corner into the living room.
Through the frosted glass of the front door, a familiar, disheveled silhouette stood on the porch. Even through the distorted glass, I recognized the slumped posture, the wild hair, and the desperate, manic stance.
Derek.
He wasn't alone. Behind him in the driveway, a pair of headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the pristine, meticulously manicured rose bushes that Marcus had spent all year tending.
Derek raised his fist and hammered on the front door again.
"Chloe! I know you're in there!" Derek's voice screamed, cracking with manic desperation. "Open the door! Give me the drive, or these guys are going to burn this whole neighborhood to the ground!"
Marcus didn't hesitate. He didn't ask questions.
With a single, violent motion, Marcus unlocked the front door and pulled it wide open.
Derek stumbled forward, caught off guard by the sudden opening, his hands raised to bang on the door again. He froze, blinking hard against the porch light, staring up into the cold, unforgiving eyes of my neighbor.
"Looking for someone, Derek?" Marcus asked quietly.
May you like
Derek's face drained of color. He opened his mouth to speak, but before a single word could escape, Marcus’s massive hand shot out, grabbing Derek by the collar of his jacket and hauling him across the threshold into the house, slamming the door shut behind him.
"Welcome back, Derek," Marcus whispered, a grim, humorless smile touching his lips as the red and blue flashing lights of federal cruisers finally began to turn the corner onto Elm Street. "Let's talk about your future."
