Vows Of Deception

Chapter 9

The knock on the door turned into a heavy thud—someone testing the lock. Michael pushed me behind him, his body a solid wall between me and whatever was coming. The gun in his hand looked too natural, like he’d done this before. Maybe he had.

“Stay low,” he whispered, voice steady even though his knuckles were white around the grip.

Another thud. Then Vanessa’s voice, sweet as poisoned honey. “Come out, lovebirds. Richard’s tired of waiting. He wants his files… and he wants you both breathing. For now.”

Michael glanced at me over his shoulder. His eyes were dark, intense, the bruise on his cheek making him look even more dangerous. “The bathroom window. It leads to the back alley. Go. I’ll hold them off.”

“No,” I hissed, clutching the envelope and drive tighter. “I’m not leaving you again. Not like this.”

His jaw clenched. “Sophia, please—”

The door splintered with a crack. Wood flew. Michael fired once—sharp, deafening—into the frame. A curse from the hallway told me he’d hit someone, but not Vanessa. She was smarter than that.

I grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the bathroom. “Together. Or not at all.”

He didn’t argue this time. We moved fast. He kicked the bathroom door shut behind us and locked it while I shoved the tiny window open. Cold night air rushed in. The drop to the alley was only six feet—doable.

Michael went first, landing light on his feet, then reached up for me. I handed him the envelope and drive before swinging my legs out. His hands caught my waist as I dropped, steady and sure. For one heartbeat, we were pressed close, his breath warm against my temple.

Then headlights flooded the alley.

Another black SUV. Doors opening. Men in dark clothes spilling out.

“Run!” Michael shouted, grabbing my hand.

We sprinted down the narrow passage, trash bags and broken bottles crunching under our feet. Bullets pinged off the brick wall beside us—close, too close. Michael returned fire, covering us as we rounded the corner onto a side street.

My lungs burned. My legs screamed. But I kept going, Michael’s grip on my hand the only thing anchoring me.

We cut through a vacant lot, jumped a low fence, and emerged onto a busier road. A late-night diner glowed ahead, its neon “Open 24 Hours” sign flickering like a promise.

“In here,” Michael said, pulling me inside.

The place was nearly empty—just a bored waitress refilling coffee and an old man at the counter. We slid into a booth at the back, breathing hard. Michael kept the gun low, out of sight.

The waitress raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “Coffee?”

“Two,” Michael said. “And keep them coming.”

When she walked away, I leaned across the table, voice low. “We can’t stay long. They’ll find us.”

“I know.” He reached for my hand, but stopped himself, like he wasn’t sure if I’d let him. “The files… did you look at them?”

I nodded. “Enough to know my mom wasn’t lying. It’s bad, Michael. Really bad. Politicians, judges, offshore accounts—your father built an empire on blood and blackmail. And she documented every piece.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly looking exhausted. The split lip made his wince real. “I knew pieces. Never the whole thing. When he sent me after you… I thought it was just money. Then I met you. And everything changed.”

I wanted to believe him. God, I did. But the hurt was still raw, sitting in my chest like broken glass.

Before I could answer, my burner phone buzzed on the table. Unknown number.

I answered, putting it on speaker so Michael could hear.

“Sophia.” Richard’s voice, calm and chilling. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be. Hand over the files and the money, and I’ll let you and my son walk away. Refuse… and I start with Adrian. Then Michael. Then you watch.”

Michael’s face hardened. “Father. This ends tonight.”

Richard laughed softly. “Brave words from a boy who couldn’t even finish the job. You fell for the mark, Michael. Pathetic. But I raised you better than that. Come home. Bring the girl. We’ll sort this out as a family.”

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone. “He’s bluffing about Adrian?”

Michael shook his head. “I don’t know anymore. Adrian’s always been the spare. The dirty secret. But if he hurts him…”

We sat in silence for a moment. The waitress brought our coffees. I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, trying to stop the shaking.

Michael leaned in. “There’s an FBI agent—Harlan. Your mom mentioned him. If we can get the files to him safely, this could be over. Real evidence. Real charges.”

“But how? They’re watching every road out of the city by now.”

He thought for a second, then pulled out a cheap prepaid phone from his pocket—probably lifted from one of Richard’s guys. “I have one contact left. An old friend who owes me. He can get us new IDs, a car that isn’t tracked. But it’ll take a few hours. We hole up here until then.”

I looked at him across the scratched Formica table. Bruised, determined, still looking at me like I was the only thing worth fighting for.

The betrayal still stung. But sitting here, chased and cornered, I realized something.

I didn’t want to do this without him.

Not anymore.

“Okay,” I said quietly. “We wait. Together.”

A small, tired smile tugged at his lips. “Together.”

Outside the diner window, a black SUV cruised slowly past, windows tinted dark.

We both tensed.

It kept going.

For now.

But the clock was ticking. Richard wouldn’t wait forever. And neither would Vanessa.

We had the truth in our hands.

Now we just had to survive long enough to use it.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.