Heartstone - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

The snow had started to fall by nightfall, burying the safehouse in silence. Luka had gone into town to source untraceable satellite equipment and burner phones. Mark stayed behind, going over every file again, burning each name, each operation, into memory. If he failed—if they caught him—he needed to know enough to make his death mean something.
He paused to check on Avera. Her breathing was soft, her tiny hands curled into fists. She was the reason he hadn’t just vanished into the wilderness. The truth wasn’t just about justice. It was about leaving her a world better than the one he’d been used to destroy.
Then the lights flickered.
A second later, the power died completely.
Mark’s body tensed.
He didn’t panic. He moved. Quiet. Controlled. Training taking over. He grabbed the emergency pack—diapers, formula, silenced Glock, burner drive—and pressed Avera close. She stirred but didn’t cry. She never did when he held her.
He slid through the back door into the tree line. The snow helped. Footsteps were masked, visibility was low. If they’d found him this fast, it meant one thing:
There was a mole. Luka?
No time to question. A dark silhouette crossed the field—too slow for military. Likely local. Then a second, faster. Too precise. Tactical.
They sent Ghost Unit.
He knew their methods. No negotiation. No arrests. Just vanishings. One team for breach. One for cleanup. If they got inside and found the files, it wouldn’t just be Mark who disappeared—it would be every trace of what he’d uncovered.
He crept along the ridge, heart pounding, until he reached the riverbank. An old emergency raft was stashed there, from a cache Luka had placed years ago. He inflated it quickly, laying Avera gently in the center.
A muffled explosion behind them signaled the breach.
They would find the house empty—and burn it to ash.
Mark pushed the raft into the water and climbed in. The Danube was unforgiving this time of year, but it was also untraceable. No cameras. No satellites. No border checkpoints.
Just cold water and time to think.
As the raft drifted into darkness, Mark took one last look at the glow of the burning farmhouse on the horizon. He whispered into the night:
“I’m not done.”