Chapter 8 - THE TRAP IS SET
For the next forty-eight hours, the farmhouse became a war room.
Julian used the burner phone to make specific, traceable calls to known syndicate fronts. He was leaving a breadcrumb trail, designed to make Vance think he was cornered, desperate, and alone.
Hannah, utilizing the accounting skills she’d abandoned years ago to wait tables, went through the flash drive of ledgers Julian had stolen before fleeing.
"Vance is moving his central operations to the harbor tonight," Hannah noted, pointing to a string of encrypted logistics orders on Julian's laptop. "He's receiving a massive shipment of untraceable weapons. He's going to be there in person to oversee it."
Julian strapped a Kevlar vest over his chest. He checked the chamber of his primary rifle. "If I take him out at the harbor, in front of the capos, the coup dies with him. The syndicate respects power. I have to show them I haven't lost mine."
He turned to Hannah, his dark eyes softening as he looked at her. "You stay here. Lock the steel doors. If I don't come back by dawn... take Leo. The accounts I set up in your name will keep you both hidden and rich for the rest of your lives."
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"You're coming back," Hannah said fiercely, grabbing the lapels of his jacket. "Do you understand me? That boy needs his father."
Julian stared at her for a long, heavy moment. He leaned down and pressed a hard, desperate kiss to her forehead. "I'll come back."
