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 offer hung in the damp air. Two point one million dollars. Half of what she’d stolen. A lifetime of escape money. I looked from her calculating eyes to the burly man, then back down the dark, dripping tunnel where I’d just overheard the destruction of my family.
There was no going back to the way things were. My family wasn’t just collapsing; Maeve had actively demolished it.
“Deal,” I said, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. “But I call the shots on the escape route. No more surprises.”
Maeve’s smile widened slightly, a hint of genuine satisfaction. “Fair enough, Toby. Welcome to the winning side.”
The burly man grunted, holstering his weapon. “Silas won’t be happy about the partnership, Maeve.”
“Silas will get what he wants eventually,” she countered, waving a dismissive hand. “First, we get out of Charleston. The Gentrys have their own mess to clean up. Let’s leave them to it.”
She led the way, not back the way I’d come, but through a different, even narrower passage that eventually opened into an old, disused drainage tunnel. The air here was colder, fresher, carrying the faint, salty tang of the harbor.
We emerged into the biting wind of an abandoned maritime dock. Old, rusted shipping containers were stacked haphazardly, their paint peeling. The rhythmic creak of ropes against metal poles was the only sound. A single, beat-up transport van sat idling in the shadows, its engine a low rumble.
A man leaned against the van, his face shadowed by a baseball cap. He was older, with tired eyes, but he moved with a quiet efficiency. This had to be Bram, Silas’s driver.
“Bram,” Maeve called out. “Time to go.”
Bram pushed off the van, his gaze sweeping over me. There was no surprise, just a grim acceptance.
“Silas wants you back, Maeve,” Bram said, his voice gravelly. “He suspects something. Your little charade at the mansion—he knows you were never a victim.”
“He always underestimates me,” Maeve retorted, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. “He can wait.”
Bram’s gaze settled on me. “And you, kid? What’s your play here?”
“Survival,” I said, meeting his eyes. “And getting out of Charleston.”
Bram held my gaze for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Silas has crossed lines he shouldn’t have,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I’m not doing his dirty work anymore. Not after what he did to the Lawson family.”
He gestured to the open side door of the van. “Get in. I know routes out of the state that Silas hasn’t even thought of. He’s got his enforcers everywhere, but I’ve been driving for him for twenty years. I know the blind spots.”
Maeve looked at me, a silent question. This was our escape.
“You really expect us to trust you?” I asked Bram, my hand on the cold metal of the van door. “After working for Silas all this time?”
Bram just gave a weary shrug. “Silas betrayed me first. I’m just leveling the playing field. Get in, or don’t. But time is running out.”
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