Chapter 12
The black sedan sped along Route 15, cutting through the dense pine forests of coastal Connecticut.
The storm raged outside, lightning illuminating the dark canopy of trees every few seconds.
I leaned back against the headrest, closing my eyes as the exhaustion of the last twelve hours finally caught up to me.
“The ledger is at the bottom of the ocean, Charlotte,” I murmured. “I threw it off Pier 9.”
Charlotte chuckled softly, a familiar sound from our childhood that made my heart ache.
“You really think I didn't know you’d do that?” Charlotte asked.
She reached beneath her seat, pulling out a waterproof canvas bag identical to the one I had thrown into the sea.
“I swapped the ledgers in Vault 9 while Marcus was clearing the elevator shaft,” Charlotte explained with a grin.
“The bag you threw into the water was full of old telephone books.”
I opened the waterproof bag, looking down at my father’s real operational ledger sitting safely inside.
“You were inside Vault 9?” I asked, amazed.
“I built the secondary access tunnel with Dad twenty years ago, Amelia,” Charlotte said, her tone growing serious.
“Dad taught me how to hide. But he taught you how to build.”
“And that’s why you’re the one who owns Grand Haven, not him.”
Suddenly, the sedan slammed on its brakes, sending us jolting forward against our seatbelts.
Ahead of us on the dark highway, three massive black SUVs were parked sideways, blocking all four lanes.
Armed men in dark raincoats stood near the vehicles, holding heavy halogen spotlights that blinded our windshield.
“It’s a roadblock,” the driver warned, reaching for a tactical shotgun beside his seat.
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“That’s not Sterling’s team,” Marcus said, looking through his night-vision binoculars.
“Those are federal marshals.”
