Chapter 7 - The Escape Route
They stumbled through the pitch-black designer kitchen, the air thick with the smell of ozone and burnt wire insulation.
“Here, Daddy!” Leo hissed, his small hands guiding David’s fingers to a low wooden panel beneath the marble kitchen island.
It was a custom laundry and trash chute Julian had installed, bypassing the basement and dropping directly down into the attached sub-garage storage room. It was narrow, designed for bags of linen, but just wide enough for children.
“Maya, you go first,” David commanded, pulling open the spring-loaded hatch. “Slide down, stay flat, don’t make a sound. I’ll send Leo right behind you.”
“I’m scared, Daddy!” Maya whimpered, tears hot on her cheeks.
“Be brave, baby girl. Just like your brother was brave. Go!”
Maya took a trembling breath and pushed herself feet-first into the metal chute. A soft whoosh echoed, followed by a muffled thump on the laundry bags below.
“Leo, go,” David urged, lifting his son.
Leo gripped David’s collar. “Daddy, Julian has a phone in the garage cabinet. He calls the men in the black van from there. He told them he had a package ready.”
The words chilled David to his core. Cartel men. Julian wasn't just hiding Leo; he was preparing to sell him or hand him over if the money fell through.
“I’m right behind you, buddy,” David said, kissing the boy's dirty forehead before gently pushing him into the slide.
Heavy, deliberate footsteps clicked into the kitchen.
A beam of light sliced through the darkness—Julian had turned on his smartphone flashlight. The harsh white light caught David crouched by the open island cabinet. Julian looked manic, his hair disheveled, blood spattered across his white dress shirt.
“End of the line, David,” Julian said, raising the gun with both hands.
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David didn't dive for the chute. Instead, he grabbed the handle of the oversized stainless-steel commercial fire extinguisher mounted beside the kitchen pantry, ripped the pin with a violent jerk, and squeezed the trigger directly into Julian’s face.
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