Chapter 7: The Family Strikes Back
It started with a flicker.
A power outage.
The lights in the farmhouse blinked off—just for a moment—then came back on. Aaron was already moving, reaching for the small pistol on the counter.
"That wasn't the storm," he muttered.
Elara stood frozen, her pulse thudding in her ears. "They found us?"
"No. Not yet," Aaron said. "But they're looking. And that blackout? That was someone scanning local power grids. Watching patterns."
"They're triangulating us," Dominic said, stepping into the room. "I've seen them do it before."
Elara grabbed her bag. "Then we move. Now."
They left that night.
Aaron drove, headlights off down a back road. Dominic sat beside him with a burner phone and a thermal scanner on his lap. Elara was in the back, holding Leo tightly, whispering a bedtime story into his ear.
Leo yawned. "Are we camping again?"
"Something like that," she whispered, brushing his curls back. "Somewhere new. Somewhere safe."
"Will the monsters follow us?"
She swallowed the knot in her throat. "Not if I stop them first."
They reached an old vineyard an hour before dawn.
It was owned by one of Aaron's old contacts—abandoned for years, wired with silent alarms and a private satellite line.
Safe. For now.
Dominic immediately booted up the system. "We've got about 48 hours before they sweep this region."
Elara laid Leo down in the back bedroom, pulling the curtains shut tight. Her hands shook. Exhaustion warred with fury.
Aaron found her in the kitchen, staring at the silent stove.
"They won't stop," she whispered. "They'll just keep coming."
Aaron stepped closer. "Then we don't stop either."
She looked at him, eyes glinting. "I want to send a message."
"To Callan?"
She nodded. "He took my life. He doesn't get to take my silence."
That afternoon, Dominic helped Elara record a video.
It wasn't dramatic. No blood. No screaming.
Just Elara. Straight-backed. Calm. Honest.
"My name is Elara Hart," she said. "I was the public face of the Roth Foundation for nearly four years. What the public didn't know is that I was being coerced into signing off on illegal activities—money laundering, bribery, and corporate blackmail."
She held up a flash drive.
"This is proof."
Her voice didn't waver.
"I'm done being quiet. You don't get to bury me."
Dominic uploaded it to five encrypted dark web forums—and to three anonymous news outlets with timed email releases.
"The second they try to wipe the servers," he said, "the video will multiply."
Somewhere across the city, in a penthouse built of glass and steel, Callan Roth slammed his glass into a wall.
"She thinks she can outplay me?"
His mother stood at the window, arms folded.
"She's just a girl with a child. A memory. We're a dynasty."
Callan's eyes burned. "Not for long if this spreads."
His phone buzzed.
A voice on the line: "The girl's not the only one we found. Her brother's in play. And the boy…"
Callan froze.
"The boy is his."
Back at the vineyard, Leo was laughing again—running between the vines with Dominic chasing behind.
Aaron sat beside Elara on the crumbling porch, watching the sun dip low.
"You did it," he said. "You spoke up."
Elara didn't smile.
"They're going to come harder now."
Aaron nodded. "Then we hold the line."
She leaned into his shoulder, voice quiet.
"If anything happens to me—"
"Don't."
"You'll protect him?"
Aaron's voice was steel. "With my life."
In the distance, a drone hummed—just outside sensor range.
Watching.
Waiting.