You're paying $3,200 a month starting today or my people padlock the door, my twenty-seven-year-old son, Tyler, announced at six in the morning, stepping past me into my small rental apartment wi...
Tyler’s scream still echoed in my ears as I drove away from the hollowed-out duplex. He was furious, but I knew his rage would be short-lived. He was a creature of immediate gratification, and a ruined property offered him none. My temporary victory would sting, but he would move on to the next scheme. And I knew exactly what that scheme would be.
I drove straight to Beatrice’s apartment, Lily still asleep in the back seat, breathing shallowly. Beatrice met me at the door, her face etched with worry.
“He’s been busy,” she said, her voice grave. “Just got a call from Silas. Tyler’s been on the dark web. Posting under your name.”
My blood ran cold. “Under my name? What did he say?”
Beatrice led me to her ancient desktop. The screen was open to a familiar-looking forum, but this time, the posts were different. They were attributed to a user named “EvelynG,” and the content was chilling.
“EvelynG” had leaked specific addresses of Cross’s stash houses, details about his cash operations, and even veiled hints about potential federal investigations into his syndicate. The posts were laced with a feigned indignation, as if “EvelynG” was a disgruntled insider seeking revenge.
One post, timestamped an hour earlier, read: “Cross keeps his Cicero cash box in the old textile mill, 3rd floor, north wall. He thinks no one knows. FBI’s been sniffing around that place for weeks. Watch out, fellas.”
Another: “His enforcer, Marcus, always uses the black Lincoln SUV, plate 4GH-789. Drives around like he owns the city. Federal eyes on him.”
“He used my home IP address,” I whispered, staring at the screen. The forum explicitly stated the originating IP. Tyler had ensured a direct link to me. “He’s framing me as an informant.”
Beatrice nodded grimly. “Silas says the word is out. Cross’s syndicate has an order: locate ‘EvelynG’ and eliminate the leak. They think you’re actively snitching to the feds.”
Panic clawed at my throat. This was a whole new level of danger. Tyler hadn’t just tried to bleed me dry; he was painting a target on my back, making me enemy number one for a ruthless criminal organization.
“We have to go,” I said, my voice urgent. “Now. We can’t stay here. If they think I’m talking to the FBI, they won’t just evict me. They’ll kill me.”
Beatrice was already moving, her ancient hands gathering a small bag. “I know a place. A motor lodge on the outskirts. Anonymous. Cash only. No paper trail.”
We moved quickly, packing only essentials for Lily. Her medical supplies were minimal now that her specialized equipment was destroyed. I carried her carefully to Beatrice’s car, her breathing still labored, her small face pale and drawn.
As we drove away, I kept checking the rearview mirror. Every car seemed to follow us, every shadow seemed to conceal a threat. The city lights blurred into a long, menacing streak. Tyler had set a trap. He had exposed me to a world where legal systems didn’t matter, only street justice. And now, I was running for my life, a mother protecting her sick child from the monster she had raised. The motor lodge was our only hope.
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