Chapter 10: The Loading Dock Escape
The fire exit at the rear of the archive room opened into a steep, subterranean concrete ramp that sloped upward toward the building’s loading dock. As we pushed through the heavy metal door into the cool night air, the distant roar of city traffic greeted us like a lifeline. But our escape route wasn't entirely clear. A pair of private security guards stood smoking near a delivery van parked fifty yards away, their flashlights cutting erratic beams across the wet asphalt of the alley.
“Wait,” Arthur murmured, pulling me back into the deep shadow of the doorway. He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a sleek, unassuming electronic device. With a quiet press of a button, a muffled car alarm began to wail from the opposite side of the block, echoing off the brick walls of the adjacent office building.
The two security guards instantly turned toward the sudden noise, shining their heavy-duty flashlights down the far street. “What the hell is that?” one of them muttered, tossing his cigarette onto the pavement.
“Check the west perimeter gate,” the other said, breaking into a jog toward the source of the disturbance.
“Now,” Arthur whispered.
We bolted out of the doorway, keeping low against the brick wall of the loading dock. My boots struck the wet asphalt with muffled thuds as we sprinted toward the corner where Arthur had left the town car idling in a no-parking zone. My lungs burned with the cold night air, and the physical binder tucked securely inside my jacket felt as heavy as lead, but every stride carried us further away from Leo’s glass cage.
Arthur unlocked the passenger door with a quick click of his key fob. I dove into the front seat, pulling the door shut just as the vehicle surged forward into the streaming traffic of the downtown thoroughfare. We merged into the nocturnal flow of the city, leaving the glowing towers of Leo’s empire behind us in the rearview mirror.
Arthur glanced over at me as we hit the freeway on-ramp, the city lights washing across his focused face. He reached over, tapping the corner of the physical binder resting safely in my lap.
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“You did it, Maya,” he said quietly, his voice steady and assured. “We have the proof. He can't hide behind his lawyers anymore.”
I looked down at the binder, tracing the edge of the cardboard cover with my fingertips. The fear that had defined my life for the past three years finally began to dissolve, replaced by a cold, resolute certainty. We were no longer running. We were taking the fight straight to his doorstep.
