Page 76 of Captured Heart

I smirk. “I owe you one, and don’t forget—”

“Extra creamer. I know from the lastfourtimes.”

“And Smith.” I shoot him a warning look. “Stay the fuck away from her.”

“He knows better,” Bowman assures me as he tosses the cards onto the table. “Now, go. See you in an hour.”

I head to the van, taking slow steps as I discreetly scan the area. The guard’s stationed near the delivery entrance a few yards away, smoking a cigarette, but the cameras on the perimeter fence concern me more. Their rotation patterns are predictable but short. No more than forty-five seconds between each sweep, but the distance between the kitchen door and the fence is manageable if she’s fast enough. The guard is slightly overweight and a smoker. She could outrun him.

I exit through the delivery entrance, and even with going as fast as I can, it still takes me just under a minute to drive around the corner to the section of the fence in front of the kitchen. It’s tight, but it will give her a head start. I slow down, letting the road stretch ahead of me as I think through every step of the plan. If she’s going to make it out, it has to be flawless.

I glance at the street signs as I pass. West Oakland. Industrial warehouses, some factories, and a set of train tracks nearby. It fits Victor’s MO perfectly, plenty of cover and far enough from curious eyes.

Two blocks down, I spot an alley beside another abandoned warehouse. Pulling over, I kill the engine and step out, the night air cool against my skin. The alley is pitch dark. No streetlights. No prying eyes. Perfect cover. I walk through, noting the sharp smell of damp concrete and the faint rustle of a stray cat darting past.

At the end of the alley, there’s a wall. It’s high, but not impossible. With some effort, she could get over. I climb onto the dumpster, hopping up to see what’s on the other side. There are streetlights, but the hue barely makes it over the high wall. In the darkness, I catch a glimpse of tree-lined streets and a few houses.

Warehouses and manufacturing plants go for miles down this road, so I wasn’t expecting a residential area so close by. I take note of the building in front of me, gray and white, with a massive red Murkox logo on the side.

I jump back in the van and drive further down. The road doesn’t seem to end, but eventually, I find a slipway and turn right toward the residential area, then take the very next right. The wall I saw extends down this entire street, separating the commercial buildings from the residences. I follow it all the way back until I see the Murkox sign.

When she gets over the wall, this is where she’ll come out. I turn left down the first street I see, looking for anything that could help her. Doesn’t look like the best neighborhood, and the houses have definitely seen better days, but there isn’t much activity.

No one outside. No witnesses. No real place to hide, if I’m being honest. I keep driving and a few houses down, I spot it: a beat-up old sedan parked in a driveway. The kind of car no one would notice.

It could work. I just have to make sure she has everything she needs to make it work.

I loop around, taking the twenty-minute drive back to Morty’s trailer in Richmond. Grabbing what I need, I pack everything into a small backpack and drive back to the alley. I stash the bag behind a dumpster near the wall, double-checking that it’s well-hidden, but easy for her to grab.

When I return, I knock on the door and Bowman lets me in. I find Katie sitting on the bed, quiet and withdrawn. Her face is pale, her eyes distant, but she perks up slightly when she sees me. Bowman straightens, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“The princess is all yours again,” he says, smirking as he leaves. “You’re right. She doesn’t stop nagging.”

Once the door closes, I lock it and move to the bed, kneeling in front of her.

She smiles, trying to hide her nervousness. “Please give me good news.”

“I found a route,” I say, keeping my voice low. “It’s not perfect, but it’ll work. Now we just need to figure out how to get you out of this building without either of us getting killed.”

Her eyes meet mine, and there’s a flicker of determination beneath the exhaustion. She leans forward slightly, her voice calm despite the tension in the air. “I have a plan.” She cups my face, resting her forehead against mine. “But you’re not going to like it.”

15. Katelyn

It’s almost midnight. The day went by so quickly, and I’ve dreaded every second leading up to this moment. Victor came to see me again this afternoon, and he didn’t mince words when he explained what he would do to me and my father if he didn’t get his files by tomorrow. The deadline is looming. The seconds are rapidly ticking by. This needs to get done tonight.

I kneel on the cold, cracked tiles on the bathroom floor, the small packets of creamer and sugar spread out in front of me. My hands are shaking as I work, tearing them open and pouring the contents into a small bowl I found in the corner of the bathroom. Alex watches me curiously from the door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed.

“I know it’s a smoke bomb,” he says. “But explain to me how it works because I’m looking at what you’re putting in, and I’m doubting...the result.”

“That’s the beauty of reactions.” I stir the powder together with my fingers. “The sugar and creamer are both combustible. When they’re heated, the sugar decomposes and releases carbon, and the powdered creamer contains flammable oils. Together, they’ll oxidize rapidly.”

“So, when you light it—”

“It’ll create enough smoke to set off the fire alarms and give me cover to sneak out,” I finish for him. I sprinkle in a little more sugar, making sure the ratio is correct. “The key is to heat it quickly. Once it ignites, the reaction will be almost instant.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I’m a nerd, remember? We covered these kinds of reactions during combustion chemistry and learned how certain compounds react when exposed to heat. It’s pretty straightforward once you understand the basics.”

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