Driven into a forced marriage by her corrupt K9 academy mentor, a twenty-year-old whistleblowing apprentice turns his fierce $4.5 million attack dog against him in a tense Connecticut mansion showd...
The Stamford train station was a desolate expanse of wet concrete and flickering fluorescent lights, even at a quarter past midnight. My dress clung to me, heavy and cold. Every step squelched. I blended into the shadows, a ghost fleeing a nightmare.
My phone, safely tucked into a waterproof pouch, buzzed faintly. It was Lucas, a burner phone number I’d given him months ago for exactly this contingency. We’d never actually met, only traded encrypted messages about a theoretical “problem” I might need “fixing.”
He was supposed to be waiting. The platform was mostly empty, save for a few figures huddled under the overhang, their faces obscured by the dim light and the driving rain.
A man rose from a bench near a defunct vending machine. He was average height, wore a dark, unremarkable jacket, and carried a worn leather messenger bag. He met my gaze with an almost unnerving calm.
“Maya?” he asked, his voice low but clear over the drumming rain.
I nodded, clutching the hard drive closer. He didn’t look like the shadowy, tech-wizard type I’d pictured. He looked like an accountant.
“Lucas Vance,” he said, extending a hand. “You look like you’ve been swimming.”
His observation was detached, not sympathetic. Exactly what I needed. Someone who didn’t ask questions I wasn’t prepared to answer.
“Harlan’s security will be looking for me,” I said, cutting straight to it. “I need this drive decrypted. Fast.”
He glanced at the hard drive, a slight frown creasing his brow. “That’s Kincaid Tactical K9 branding, isn’t it? He doesn’t skimp on encryption.”
“Multi-layer,” I confirmed. “And I don’t have the passcodes for half of it.”
A late-night commuter train rumbled into the station, its brakes hissing. A few weary travelers disembarked, their faces drawn. This was my ride, and Lucas was my only chance.
“It won’t be cheap,” he said, a flicker of something in his eyes. Curiosity, maybe.
“I have money,” I told him, though most of it was locked in my trust, now fully exposed to Harlan’s machinations. But I had contingency funds, cash I’d saved for years.
“Good,” Lucas said. “Because this isn’t a quick job. We can’t do it here. Too many eyes, even at this hour.” He gestured vaguely at the empty platform. “Harlan’s reach is long.”
He was right. Harlan had eyes and ears everywhere, especially in Connecticut. Even anonymous train stations weren’t truly safe.
“Where then?” I asked, my voice tight.
“There’s a diner a few exits up the highway,” Lucas replied, pulling a set of keys from his pocket. “Off-grid, cash-only. We can get coffee, use their Wi-Fi for preliminary scans, and figure out the next steps.”
He turned and headed towards the parking lot. “My car’s an old sedan. Blends in. Nobody looks twice at a beat-up Civic.”
It wasn’t ideal, but it was a plan. A stranger, a midnight drive, and a hard drive that held all my secrets and Harlan’s crimes. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic rhythm against the quiet determination of Lucas Vance. This was it. This was the dive into the unknown.
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