Chapter 14 - The Threshold of Dawn
A bullet whistled past Clara’s cheek, shattering the padlock holding the maintenance gate closed with a shower of red-orange rust. She threw her entire body weight against the heavy iron bars, forcing the gate open just wide enough to squeeze through. She tumbled out onto the mudflats bordering the river canal, the wide, grey expanse of the open water stretching before her under the overcast sky.
Behind her, the gunfire stopped. An eerie, heavy silence descended over the riverbank, broken only by the gentle lapping of waves and the distant hum of morning traffic on the bridge above. Clara hauled herself to her feet, covered in silt, blood, and grime. She couldn't hear Elena. She couldn't hear Mark.
Footsteps sloshed through the mud behind the broken gate. Clara stopped, her breath catching in her throat, her hands curling into defensive fists. She prepared herself for the final confrontation—whether it was Mark dragging her back into hell, or a mercenary finishing the contract.
Elena stumbled through the opening, dragging her left leg, her face bruised and bleeding from a deep gash along her hairline. In her right hand, she held Mark's dropped hunting knife; in her left, dripping with canal water, was the flash drive.
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""He's gone,"" Elena breathed, leaning against the rusty iron bars, gasping for air. ""Both of them. Gone.""
Clara sank to her knees in the mud, the overwhelming surge of survival washing through her veins in a tidal wave of tears. They were alive. The nightmare was over. Elena limped over and dropped the cold flash drive into Clara’s open palm. ""It’s yours. What do you want to do with it?""
