The Lowest Point

The wind cut across the tarmac, cold and sharp, but Iris barely felt it. She was focused on the gun in Julian’s hand, the small, deadly circle aimed at Elias's chest.

"Let him go, Julian," she said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. "You can't just make people disappear. Not anymore."

"I can do whatever I want," Julian said, his smile brittle. "I'm Julian Vance. I built this town. I own the police, the judges, the doctors. Do you think a few digital files are going to stop me?"

He gestured with the gun. "Get in the van, Elias."

Elias stood frozen, the tire iron hanging uselessly at his side. He looked at the white van, at the dark, open maw of the side door. It wasn't a vehicle; it was a coffin.

"No," he whispered.

"Get in," Julian barked, stepping closer. "Or I shoot Sabrina. Right here. Right now."

He swung the gun toward the passenger seat of the Lexus. Sabrina let out a strangled cry.

Elias flinched. The conditioning was too deep, the fear too ingrained. He couldn't let someone else get hurt. Not for him.

He dropped the tire iron. It clattered on the asphalt.

"Okay," he said, his voice hollow. "I'll go."

"No!" Iris lunged forward, but the guard caught her, twisting her arm behind her back. Marcus tried to intervene, but the guard shoved him back, leveling the shotgun at his chest.

"Stay back," the guard warned.

Elias walked slowly toward the van. He looked small, defeated. The thirty years of darkness had won.

"Smart boy," Julian said. He looked at Iris. "Now, you."

"Me?"

"You're coming too," Julian said. "You and your little boyfriend. We're going to take a nice, long flight over the Atlantic."

"You can't kill us all," Iris said. "People will ask questions."

"Let them ask," Julian said. "I'll be in Belize. And you'll be... fish food."

He motioned to the guard. "Put them in the van with the freak."

The guard shoved Iris forward. She stumbled, falling to her knees on the wet tarmac.

"Get up," the guard grunted.

Iris looked up. She saw Elias stepping into the van. She saw Julian smiling, the gun steady in his hand. She saw Sabrina in the car, weeping silently.

She had failed. She had found the truth, she had found the proof, but she had lost the war.

"Please," she whispered. "Julian. Just let them go. I'll delete the files. I'll sign whatever you want."

"Too late for that," Julian said. "You had your chance, Iris. You chose to be a hero. Now you get to die like one."

He racked the slide of the revolver.

"Get in the van."

Iris stood up. Her legs felt like lead. She walked toward the van, her head bowed.

She climbed inside. The interior smelled of antiseptic and despair. There were restraints bolted to the floor. A padded bench.

Elias was sitting on the bench, his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him.

"It's okay," he said, not looking up. "I'm used to the dark."

The guard shoved Marcus in behind her. He slammed the door.

The lock engaged with a heavy, final *thud*.

Outside, Julian's voice was muffled but clear.

"Drive. And don't stop for anything."

The engine rumbled. The van lurched forward.

Iris sank to the floor, the vibration of the road rattling through her bones. She looked at Elias. She looked at Marcus.

They were trapped. In a moving cell, driven by a murderer, heading toward a plane that would drop them into the ocean.

She had found him. She had saved him.

And she had lost him in an hour.

Iris stood frozen as the van doors slammed. She had found him and lost him in an hour.