Chapter 11 - The Severing of ChainsHector pulled his hand back, resting it heavily on the armrest of his chair. He closed his eyes, inhaling slowly through his nose as if trying to steady a crumbling foundation within his chest.
"Take the child," Hector said, his rasp barely above a whisper.
David stepped forward. "Not until we have your word. Unconditional. You destroy every file on Elena. You remove our names from your registries. You never send another courier, another lookout, or another letter."
Hector looked up, his eyes dull with exhaustion. "You think you can just walk away into the world and pretend you don't belong to this soil?"
"I don't have to pretend," David answered firmly. "I built my life with my own hands. Sarah and I will raise Maya to know that a name is something you earn through kindness and duty, not something you inherit through fear."
Hector reached across the desk, his fingers closing over the flash drive. He did not crush it, nor did he throw it back. He slid it into the top drawer of his desk and shut the wood with a quiet, decisive thud.
"Go," Hector said, waving a hand toward the door without looking at them again. "Before the sun comes up."
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Sarah picked Maya up from the blotter, wrapping the blue-striped blanket securely around her small shoulders, tucking the corners tight. She did not say goodbye. She turned and walked toward the door, her footsteps echoing solidly across the hardwood floor.
David paused at the doorway, looking back one last time at the silhouette of his father sitting alone beneath the towering, unlit fireplace. "I hope you find peace, Hector," David said quietly. "Because the war is over."
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