Chapter 13 - The Coastal Safehouse
The rain returned with ferocious intensity as the SUV navigated the winding, neglected secondary roads bordering the Long Island Sound. The address Marcus’s team extracted from the pharmacy footage was a weathered saltbox cottage nestled behind a row of decaying boat sheds, its timber grayed by decades of salt air and neglect.
Julian stepped out into the mud, the collar of his charcoal overcoat turned up against the biting wind. The house was completely dark, save for the faint, periodic sweep of the distant lighthouse beacon cutting through the fog. Two of Julian's security guards flanked him, moving silently across the overgrown lawn, their footsteps muffled by the roar of the surf crashing against the rocky shore behind the property.
As Julian reached the wooden porch steps, the front door swung inward without a sound.
Standing in the doorway, framed by the darkness within, was a woman. She was thinner than the photograph from the medical registry, her cheekbones prominent, her hair cut short in a jagged, self-administered crop. In her hands, she held a heavy iron fireplace poker, held low and balanced with the practical competence of someone prepared to fight to the death.
""Take one more step onto this deck,"" Sarah Linwood said, her voice shaking with adrenaline but entirely steady in intent, ""and I’ll drive this through your throat.""
Julian stopped at the bottom riser, keeping his empty hands visible at his sides. The storm whipped his hair across his forehead, water running down the lines of his face.
""My name is Julian Vance,"" he said quietly, speaking beneath the howling wind. ""I am Leo’s father.""
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Sarah froze, the iron poker dropping an inch as her breath hitched. Her gray eyes swept over his face, cataloging the bone structure, the eyes, the undeniable familial signature shared with the infant she had carried.
""You're too late,"" she whispered, her voice cracking as a single tear cut through the grime on her cheek. ""Arthur's men were here an hour ago.""
