Chapter 8: No More Running
The alarm tripped at 3:12 a.m.
Not a loud blare—just a soft vibration on Aaron's wrist.
He was already up and moving when Dominic burst into the hallway. "We've got motion. Southeast quadrant. One drone. One heat signature."
Aaron grabbed the tablet. "That drone's not scouting. It's marking us."
Elara was already pulling Leo into her arms, half-asleep and confused.
"Mommy?" he mumbled.
She kissed his temple. "Shhh. It's okay, baby. We're just playing hide-and-seek."
Outside, the night was black and full of threat.
Aaron scanned the vineyard through the scope of his rifle. "We've got one scout in the trees. Thermal cloak. Military-grade."
Dominic swore under his breath. "They brought mercenaries."
"We need to move," Elara said, clutching Leo tighter.
But Aaron shook his head. "Too late for that. They're already surrounding us."
Dominic's voice was grim. "Then we hold."
They barricaded the lower level, blacked out the windows, and set up portable signal jammers. Aaron pulled Elara aside.
"They're not here to capture you," he said quietly. "They're here to silence you."
Elara nodded. "Then we make noise."
Half an hour later, the vineyard erupted in shadows.
Gunfire cracked through the vines.
Aaron and Dominic moved like ghosts—taking out two scouts before the rest retreated. But it wasn't a win. It was a warning.
"They were just testing us," Aaron muttered. "The real team's coming."
Elara gritted her teeth. "Then we go on offense."
That morning, she made a call.
It went to a woman known only as Rook—a former investigative journalist turned whistleblower broker.
"You've got three minutes," Rook said. "Start talking."
Elara didn't waste a second. "I have proof of Roth family corruption. Financials. Surveillance. Witnesses. I'll trade it—all of it—for international immunity and safe passage for my son."
A pause.
Then: "Send a teaser."
Elara attached two of the most damning files.
Rook whistled. "This isn't just dirt. This is arsenic. I'll make a few calls."
Elara hung up, her hands shaking.
Aaron stepped behind her. "Are you sure?"
"No," she whispered. "But I'm done playing defense."
That afternoon, the vineyard received a coded transmission.
A plane. Private. Unmarked. One-way out of the country.
"Destination?" Aaron asked.
"Elara's choice," Dominic said. "But it comes with a price."
Aaron frowned. "What price?"
Dominic handed him a folder.
Inside: a file marked Final Statement.
It was everything.
A complete exposé of Roth Industries, with Elara's full testimony—scheduled to go live the moment she stepped onto that plane.
Elara stared at it for a long time.
"If I send this… they'll never stop hunting me."
Dominic nodded. "But the world will know."
Aaron placed a hand on her back. "It's your call."
Elara closed her eyes.
And signed it.
That night, she sat with Leo one last time beneath the stars.
"Do you remember Daddy?" he asked sleepily.
She looked at Aaron through the open door and smiled softly. "I do now."
The next day, as the sun rose red across the valley, a black SUV rolled into the airstrip.
Elara, Leo, Aaron, and Dominic climbed out.
Rook's voice came over the earpiece. "Clock's ticking. The Roths know you're leaving."
Aaron swept the area. "We've got five minutes. Tops."
They ran.
And not ten seconds after the wheels lifted off the ground, gunfire ripped through the dirt below them.
But it was too late.
They were gone.
Somewhere in a hidden Roth boardroom, Callan stood trembling with rage as the files exploded across every screen in the building. The news was already breaking.
And Elara's face was on every channel.
She wasn't running anymore.
She was winning.