Her brother Logan Blake had died two years earlier under circumstances labeled accidental overdose, though Madison had never believed the official narrative. Logan had been frightened before his death, his final call trembling with dread.
“They are going to kill me,” he had said.
Now Rex’s voice cut through memory.
“He did not die the way they claimed,” Rex stated.
Before Madison could respond, two sharply dressed men entered, their movements controlled, their smiles rehearsed.
“Madison Blake,” one announced smoothly, flashing a badge. “We need to discuss Logan.”
The badge appeared authentic, yet something felt disturbingly wrong.
“You have something that belongs to us,” the man continued coldly.
Rex stepped forward.
“Wrong place,” he warned.
Tension detonated instantly as weapons appeared, violence erupting in chaotic motion, glass shattering, screams echoing, while Madison stood frozen in disbelief. Shots thundered, bodies collided, Ivy wailed, and within seconds Rex dragged Madison toward the rear exit.
Outside, sunlight felt blinding.
“Climb,” Rex ordered, pointing toward a tall chain link fence.
“I cannot,” Madison gasped.
“You can,” Rex insisted firmly. “Mothers always do.”