Chapter 7 - Safehouse in the Silt
Marcus led Julian and Clara through three miles of forgotten subterranean utility tunnels, eventually emerging into the damp salt air of the old industrial docks. The scent of rotting timber and brine hung heavy over the abandoned fish cannery Marcus had converted into an off-grid safehouse years ago.
Inside, Clara was finally able to shower and change into clean oversized flannel and denim provided by the mechanic. Though she was physically out of danger, the psychological shock had set in. She sat at a rickety wooden table, staring blankly into a mug of black coffee.
Julian approached her, placing a first-aid kit on the table. ""Let me see your wrists.""
Clara hesitated before holding out her arms. The rope burns were raw, deep, and angry red. Julian carefully cleaned the broken skin with antiseptic, his touch unexpectedly tender for a man built for combat.
""Why didn't you just run when you saw what Eleanor was doing?"" Julian asked softly. ""You could have walked out the staff gate and never looked back.""
Clara looked up, meeting his intense gaze. ""Because your brother... before he died, he was kind to my family. He paid for my sister’s surgery when the company insurance refused. When I saw Eleanor copying files labeled with his name, I knew she was the reason he died. I couldn't let her erase him.""
Julian paused, the gauze frozen in his fingers. ""My brother didn't die of heart failure, did he?""
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""No,"" Clara whispered, tears spilling silently down her cheeks. ""The file Eleanor took was an autopsy report. It had the name of a synthetic paralytic. Eleanor poisoned him at dinner, Julian. Exactly eighteen months ago tonight.""
Julian stood up slowly, the rage inside him burning so fiercely it threatened to consume his vision. Before he could speak, the safehouse's radio scanner crackled to life, picking up a high-priority dispatch on the tactical band.
