The Breach

The shockwave hit them like a physical blow, a hot wind that slammed Elena into the concrete. The sound was deafening, a *crack-thump* that rattled her teeth and set off every car alarm in the garage. Smoke rolled across the ceiling, thick and acrid.

Elena scrambled to her feet, ears ringing. The car bomb had been close—too close. The heat seared her face.

"Move!" Sarah shouted, grabbing her arm.

They ran. Not away from the fire, but through it. The smoke provided cover, a gray curtain that swallowed them whole.

Behind them, the guards were firing blindly. Bullets sparked against the concrete pillars, ricocheting with angry whines. *Ping. Ping. Zip.*

"The stairwell," Julian gasped, pointing to a heavy steel door on the far wall. "It leads up to the lobby."

They sprinted toward it. Elena's lungs burned. Her legs felt heavy, like they were moving through water.

The Third Sister—the imposter—was shouting orders. Her voice was calm, terrifyingly precise.

"Seal the exits. Don't let them leave the garage."

Elena reached the door first. She grabbed the handle.

Locked.

"It's electronic," Julian said, seeing the keypad. "They locked it down."

He fumbled in his pocket for the tire iron, but it was gone—lost in the explosion.

"Get back," Sarah said.

She raised the gun.

She fired three times at the lock mechanism. The metal sparked and twisted, but the door held.

"It's reinforced," Sarah cursed.

They were trapped. The guards were advancing, their shapes emerging from the smoke like specters.

Elena looked around. The garage was a tomb. Concrete walls. Concrete floor. No windows.

Just cars.

She saw a red sports car parked near the ramp. A vintage convertible.

"Julian," she said. "Can you hotwire that?"

Julian looked at the car. Then at the advancing guards.

"I can try."

He ran to the car. He smashed the window with his elbow. He dove under the dashboard.

Elena and Sarah took cover behind a concrete pillar. Sarah fired back, her shots calculated and slow. She was conserving ammo.

"We have to buy him time," Sarah said.

"Who is she?" Elena asked, peering around the pillar. "The woman?"

"I don't know," Sarah said, reloading. "But she knows everything. She knew about the fire. She knew about the tunnel."

"She's Halloway's daughter," Elena said. "She has to be."

Sarah looked at her. "Another one?"

"The oldest," Elena said. "The one Arthur kept hidden."

The car engine roared to life. A guttural, angry sound that echoed off the walls.

"Get in!" Julian screamed.

Elena and Sarah broke cover. They ran for the car, bullets chasing their heels.

They dove into the back seat just as Julian slammed the car into gear.

He spun the wheel. The car drifted, tires smoking, and then shot forward.

Toward the exit ramp.

But the gate was coming down. A heavy steel shutter, descending slowly but inexorably.

"We're not going to make it," Sarah shouted.

"Watch me," Julian said.

He didn't slow down. He accelerated.

The car hit the ramp. The engine screamed.

The gate was three feet from the ground. Two feet.

Julian ducked.

"Down!"

The car slid under the gate.

Metal screeched against metal. The windshield shattered. The roll bar caught the edge of the shutter, sparking showers of fire.

But they made it.

They burst out into the alley, the car scraping and groaning but moving.

Julian didn't stop. He turned onto the street, merging into the chaos of the city traffic.

Elena sat up, brushing glass from her hair. She looked back.

The garage gate was closed. But smoke was billowing from the cracks.

They were alive.

"Where now?" Sarah asked, reloading her gun again.

"The Tribune," Elena said. "The front door."

"They'll be waiting," Julian said.

"Let them wait," Elena said. She pulled the ledger from her pocket. "We're not sneaking in anymore."

She looked at the building looming ahead. The Tribune Tower. A fortress of glass and truth.

"We're going to make an entrance."

Julian swerved the car toward the plaza in front of the building.

He drove up the curb. Through the flower beds.

And straight through the revolving glass doors of the lobby.