Chapter 3: Garage Heist - Stealing the Tracker's Core Code
1497 Words
Dusk painted the garage in dim orange light as Ella hunched over her laptop, the tracking system glowing on the workbench. She’d spent an hour refining the fake GPS signal—now it would ping the garage’s location every 10 minutes, even when the real box was miles away. But the Ghost Council’s demand lingered: Bring the core code, not just the hardware. She needed to extract the encrypted algorithm from the tracker—without triggering its self-destruct.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, hacking into the system she’d built. The code flashed on the screen: a jumble of numbers and symbols she’d designed to be unbreakable. “C’mon,” she muttered, typing a backdoor command. Her dad’s old toolbox sat open beside her—she’d grabbed it that afternoon, the rusted wrenches a silent reminder. If she messed this up, Leo…
A crash cut her off. The garage’s side door slammed open, splintering wood. Three men stormed in, all black hoodies and boots, their faces masked. One hefted a crowbar; another held a switchblade. Ella’s hand darted to the wrench under her workbench.
“Where’s the tracker?” the tallest one snarled, advancing. His voice was rough, not filtered like the Ghost Council’s—grunts, not leaders.
Ella stood, slowly, her eyes scanning the garage. Nightshade was 10 feet away, keys still in the ignition. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The man laughed, swinging the crowbar at a toolbox. Metal clattered to the floor. “Cut the crap, Marquez. The Council said you have it. Hand it over, or we break more than just your toys.”
They weren’t here to help—they were here to take the tracker for themselves. Low-level thugs, trying to impress the Council by grabbing the prize first. Ella’s jaw tightened. She’d dealt with guys like this before—stupid, violent, predictable.
She lunged left, grabbing a hydraulic jack from the floor, and swung. It caught the crowbar-wielding man in the ribs. He grunted, doubling over. The second man charged with the switchblade; Ella ducked, sweeping his legs. He crashed into the workbench, knocking over a can of motor oil.
The third man pulled a gun.
Ella froze. The barrel pointed at her chest, cold and black. “Stay still,” he said, his hand shaking. “Give me the box.”
She glanced at the tracking system—three feet away, glowing red. If he took it, Leo was dead. If she fought, she was dead. She inched her hand toward the laptop.
A gunshot roared.
Ella flinched, but the man with the gun dropped to his knees, clutching his shoulder. Blood seeped through his hoodie. The other two thugs stared, stunned.
Ryan Voss stood in the broken doorway, a Glock in his hand. His blue eyes were sharp, scanning the room. He didn’t look at Ella—just the thugs. “Wrong garage,” he said, his voice cold.
The tallest thug recovered first, swinging the crowbar at Ryan. Ryan dodged, slamming his elbow into the man’s jaw. The thug crumpled. The second man ran for the door; Ryan fired a shot past his ear. He tripped, scrambling into the alley.
The gunman on the floor tried to crawl away. Ryan stepped on his wrist, the Glock pressing to his temple. “Who sent you?”
“Th-the Council!” he gasped. “They said… said to get the tracker. For the boss. Yuri!”
Yuri—Ella’s dad’s old apprentice. The name sent a chill down her spine. Ryan’s jaw tightened. He knocked the man out with the butt of his gun, then turned to Ella.
Their eyes met. No smiles, no pleasantries. Just tension.
“You’re not with them,” Ella said, not a question.
Ryan holstered his gun, stepping over the unconscious thug. “Neither are you. Not really.” He nodded at the laptop. “You’re extracting the core code. Smart—they’ll kill you if you hand over the hardware without it.”
Ella stepped back, gripping her wrench. “How do you know that? Who are you?”
“Someone who doesn’t want Yuri to get that code,” he said, walking to the tracking system. He didn’t touch it—just stared at the red light. “That algorithm? It can shut down every traffic light in the Southwest. Yuri wants it to smuggle weapons into LA.”
Ella’s blood ran cold. She’d built the tracker to protect the crew, not arm criminals. “You work for Interpol. The text I saw—you were updating someone.”
Ryan’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “Sharp. But we don’t have time for questions. Those thugs will call Yuri. He’ll send more. You need to finish extracting the code—and you need to do it fast.”
He grabbed a roll of duct tape from the shelf, bending to tie up the unconscious men. Ella hesitated, then turned back to her laptop. The code was 70% extracted. “I need five minutes,” she said.
Ryan nodded, glancing at the garage door. “I’ll watch the perimeter. But if I see lights—we run.”
Ella typed faster, her hands shaking. The code flashed, line by line. Her dad’s voice echoed in her head: Machines don’t lie. They wait for someone smart enough to fix them. She wasn’t fixing this—she was weaponizing it. For Leo.
A car engine roared in the distance. Ryan’s head snapped up. “They’re here. Two blocks out.”
Ella’s heart raced. The code was 90% done. “Just a minute!”
Ryan grabbed her laptop, slamming it shut. “No. We go—now.”
“I can’t!” she yelled, yanking the laptop back. “If I don’t get this code, Leo dies!”
The car’s headlights cut through the garage windows. Ryan cursed, grabbing Ella’s arm. “Get in Nightshade. Now.”
Ella hesitated, then ran to the Camaro. She tossed the laptop and tracker into the passenger seat, jumping behind the wheel. Ryan dragged the tied thugs into a storage closet, slamming the door. He jumped into the passenger seat as the garage door was rammed open.
A black SUV skidded in, Yuri’s men pouring out. “Stop them!” someone shouted.
Ella hit the gas. Nightshade’s engine roared, the tires spinning on the oil-slick floor. She swerved past the SUV, the Camaro’s nose scraping the wall. Ryan fired his gun through the window, hitting the SUV’s tire. It blew, sending the vehicle careening into a tool rack.
They burst out of the garage, into the night. Ella floored it, the Camaro’s nanotech coating kicking in—its body faded into the dark, almost invisible. She glanced in the rearview mirror: the SUV was immobilized, but more cars were coming.
“Where are we going?” she asked, gripping the wheel.
“Juarez,” Ryan said, pulling a map from his jacket. “The race track. Yuri will be there tomorrow. If we get the code to Interpol before then—we can take him down. And get your brother back.”
Ella stared at him. He was an agent. A stranger. But he was the only one who knew what Yuri was planning. The only one who could help Leo.
She nodded, turning onto the highway. The laptop sat on the passenger seat, the code still incomplete. 95%. She’d finish it on the road.
Ryan pulled out his phone, texting. “I told Interpol to meet us at the border. They’ll have a team ready.” He glanced at Ella. “You know Yuri. From your dad.”
Ella’s throat tightened. “He was my dad’s apprentice. Got fired for stealing parts. Dad said he was ‘too greedy.’”
“Greedy enough to kill your dad,” Ryan said. “The factory fire? It was arson. Yuri did it to steal your dad’s drone designs. Now he wants the tracker code to finish what he started.”
Ella’s hands tightened on the wheel. Anger burned, hot and bright. For her dad. For Leo. For every lie she’d told the crew.
The laptop beeped. The code was extracted.
She held up the screen. “We have it.”
Ryan smiled, a real one this time. “Good. Because tomorrow—we race.”
Behind them, the garage was a distant glow. The crew would find it soon—broken doors, unconscious thugs, an empty workbench. They’d know she’d lied. They’d know she’d run.
But for now, she had the code. She had Ryan. She had a chance to save Leo.
Ella hit the gas, Nightshade speeding into the dark. Tomorrow would be a fight. But this time, she wasn’t fighting alone.
And somewhere in Juarez, Yuri stared at a map of the desert track, his fingers tapping a gun. He’d waited years for this—for the code, for revenge.
Tomorrow, he’d get both.
- Writer
