Chapter 2 - The Midnight Knock
Mark instinctively shifted his body, placing himself between the window and his son. ""Sarah, take Leo upstairs,"" he whispered, his voice dropping an octave into the cold, flat tone of an operator.
""Mark, what is it?"" Sarah’s face drained of color. The brief warmth of their reunion evaporated, replaced by the suffocating paranoia that had defined the last two years of her life.
""Upstairs. Now.""
Leo looked between them, wide-eyed and sensing the sudden drop in temperature. Sarah scooped him into her arms and slipped quietly toward the stairs, her socks muffling each step. Mark waited until the soft click of the bedroom door echoed from above before moving to the hallway console. Hidden beneath the stack of unopened mail was a heavy steel tactical knife he had tucked into his waistband during the journey home.
Three deliberate raps struck the front door. Not the frantic knocking of an intruder, but the measured, institutional cadence of a summons.
Mark approached the frosted glass panel beside the door. Through the distorted glass stood a tall silhouette in an overcoat. The man didn't reach for the handle; he simply slipped a manila envelope halfway beneath the door, turned on his heel, and walked back to the idling sedan without uttering a word. The vehicle pulled away into the night, its red taillights bleeding into the mist.
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Mark waited ten seconds before kneeling to pick up the envelope. The paper was cold and damp. Stamped across the front in red block ink were five letters: VANGUARD.
Inside was a single glossy black-and-white photograph taken less than ten minutes ago. It showed Mark kneeling on the sidewalk, clutching Leo to his chest, with a red laser crosshair centered precisely over the back of the boy’s head.
