Chapter 16 - The Cabin on Route 4
An hour later, they pulled themselves out of the storm drain three miles downriver, half-frozen and covered in black sludge.
The storm had softened into a steady, freezing drizzle.
Mark led Sam through the woods to a hunting cabin his father had built thirty years ago—a place that didn't exist on any modern county map.
Inside, the air was dry and smelled of pine needles.
Mark didn't turn on the lights. He built a small fire in the stone hearth using dry birch bark, his hands steady now, completely numb to the cold.
Sam sat on a wooden bench, wrapping a dirty wool blanket around her shivering shoulders. Her weapon was lying on the table between them, stripped and empty.
Mark plugged the hard drive into an old, air-gapped rugged laptop he kept in the cabin's gun safe. The blue light from the screen illuminated his blood-caked face.
Files opened. Folders of bank statements, wire transfers, audio logs.
And then Mark clicked on an audio file labeled Vance_Final_04.wav.
He hit play.
A familiar voice filled the silent cabin. It wasn't Mayor Vance.
It was Chief John Miller—Mark’s dead brother—recorded twelve hours ago.
"If you're listening to this, Vance, the plan is set. Mark will take the bait at the highway. He’s too righteous to let it go. He’ll lead us straight to the drive, and then we burn the whole department clean."
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Mark sat frozen, his hand still on the mouse, staring at the screen as his brother's voice destroyed the last piece of reality he had left to stand on.
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