Chapter 4 - The Safehouse of Scars
Adrian slammed the brake, throwing the wheel into a hard drift that swung the reinforced chassis into an old drainage access tunnel beneath the highway. Gunfire sparked off the armor-plated roof like hail, but the reinforced carriage held as they plunged into subterranean darkness.
Twenty minutes later, they emerged into the rusted courtyard of an abandoned maritime shipyard. Adrian led Clara down into a dry dock bunker sealed by a vault door. The interior was spartan—metal lockers, emergency medical supplies, tactical radios, and a single cot covered with wool blankets.
Clara set Sarah down on the cot, wrapping her tightly against the cold concrete chill. "We can’t live like rats in a sewer, Adrian. She needs warmth, medicine, an actual life."
Adrian discarded his ruined suit jacket, revealing heavy scars that crisscrossed his muscular back like old topography. "This is for tonight only. Tomorrow, we secure forged manifests at the port and clear the border."
Clara approached him, reaching out before hesitating. Her fingers brushed the edge of a fresh scar on his shoulder. "Why didn't you look for me sooner? Why leave me to mourn you for four years?"
Adrian turned, his eyes burning with repressed misery. "Because every person I touched ended up like Elena. I stayed a ghost to keep you breathing."
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He reached out, his rough thumb lightly brushing her cheekbone, pulling her closer into his orbit. Just as their breaths mingled, the tactical radio on the table crackled to life with a familiar, dead man's voice.
"Adrian, you left your front door open."
