Sixteen-year-old Toby Gentry races to uncover $4.2 million in stolen underworld assets after his pregnant sister-in-law disappears from a locked Charleston cellar, exposing a deadly family conspira...
Maeve’s eyes flickered, surprised by my demand. The baby blanket. Not money, not revenge, not even the Gentry deeds. Just a relic of my lost childhood, a symbol of everything that had been taken.
“The blanket?” she repeated, her pistol still steady. “That’s all you want?”
“And safe passage,” I affirmed, my grip on the decryption key unyielding. “Bram is waiting. He’ll get me across state lines. You let him go, no pursuit, no tricks.”
She studied me, a strange mix of disbelief and grudging respect on her face. “You really are different, Toby. You could have demanded half the world.”
“I just want out,” I said, staring at the weapon. “And I want a piece of what was truly mine. The rest of it is poison.”
She slowly lowered the pistol, her arm still tense. With her free hand, she reached into her backpack, pulling out the embroidered baby blanket. It was still folded neatly, the faded letters spelling “Baby Toby” visible even in the dim light.
She tossed it across the floor. It landed with a soft thud near my feet.
“Now, the key,” she commanded.
I took one last look at the blanket, then at the decryption key in my hand. This small object, this sliver of technology, held the power to unlock $4.2 million, to shatter Silas’s empire, or to fund Maeve’s indefinite escape.
I tossed it.
The silver flash drive spun through the air, landing perfectly in her outstretched hand. She gripped it, her fingers closing around it possessively.
“A deal then,” Maeve said, a hint of something unreadable in her eyes. “Good luck, Toby.”
She turned, not looking back, and slipped out through another exit in the pump room, a smaller access point I hadn’t noticed. I heard a distant splash, then the fading thrum of a boat engine.
She was gone. Into the dark harbor mist, leaving the underworld hierarchy in complete chaos behind her. Silas would be furious, without his money, without his property deeds, and without his leverage. My family was ruined, but Maeve had escaped, a ghost with a fortune.
I knelt, picking up the soft, worn blanket. It smelled faintly of salt and old linen, a familiar scent from a life that no longer existed. My hands tightened around it. The cold, empty pump room suddenly felt immense.
Outside, the distant city lights shimmered through the mist. The world was still turning, oblivious to the battles fought and fortunes lost beneath its surface.
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