Chapter 29
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The drive up the New England coast was a grueling, tense journey. The rain had eventually surrendered to a thick, oppressive fog that rolled off the freezing Atlantic Ocean, making the treacherous coastal roads nearly impossible to navigate.
Samuel drove the unmarked police cruiser with intense concentration, his eyes fixed on the winding asphalt. Richard sat in the passenger seat, his phone connected to a secure, encrypted satellite line, monitoring any chatter from Malcolm’s network.
Vivienne sat in the back with Laura. She clutched the Protocol Omega ledger tightly in her lap.
"Are you prepared for this?" Laura asked quietly, noticing the slight tremble in Vivienne’s hands. "You are about to meet a sibling you never knew existed. Someone who has been hiding from Malcolm his entire life."
"I don't know," Vivienne admitted honestly, staring out into the grey fog. "My entire life has been built on secrets and lies. I thought my mother abandoned me. Now I know she died trying to protect me. I just want the truth, Laura. Even if it hurts."
"The truth is rarely a comfort," Laura replied softly. "But it is the only weapon we have left."
"We're approaching the coordinates," Samuel announced, slowing the vehicle as the road transitioned from asphalt to jagged gravel. "Vanguard-44."
The fog parted slightly, revealing the towering silhouette of an ancient, weathered lighthouse standing dangerously close to the edge of a massive cliff. The crashing waves of the Atlantic hammered against the rocks far below, sending plumes of freezing saltwater into the air.
There were no lights on in the attached keeper's cottage. The property looked entirely abandoned.
"It looks deserted," Richard observed, stepping out of the cruiser and pulling his coat tight against the biting wind.
"We don't assume anything," Samuel warned, drawing his weapon. "Laura, take the rear exit. Richard, you and Vivienne stay behind me."
They approached the cottage cautiously. The heavy wooden front door was slightly ajar, creaking rhythmically in the ocean wind.
Samuel pushed the door open, sweeping the interior with his gun. The cottage was dark, but it smelled of recent woodsmoke and stale coffee.
"Clear," Samuel called out.
Vivienne stepped into the main living room. It was modestly furnished. Books lined the walls, and a small fire had recently burned out in the hearth.
May you like
Suddenly, the cold, unmistakable click of a shotgun being pumped echoed from the shadows of the staircase.
"Don't move a single muscle," a deep, rough voice commanded from the dark. "Drop your weapons, or I’ll paint this floor with your brains."
