CHAPTER 57

The warehouse was engulfed in chaos. The explosions had left the structure teetering on the edge of collapse, and the air was thick with smoke and dust. Philip's heart pounded as he helped Clara to her feet, the urgency of the situation crashing down on him.

"We need to get out of here," Clara gasped, coughing as she tried to clear her lungs of the acrid smoke.

Philip nodded, but his mind was racing. Lane had escaped, and the explosions meant he had likely triggered some kind of self-destruct mechanism in the warehouse. If they didn’t get out soon, they would be buried under tons of rubble.

But even as they made their way toward the exit, Philip couldn't shake the nagging thought in his mind—what had Lane meant by "this is only the beginning"?

As they stumbled through the debris, the sound of distant sirens filled the air. FBI backup was closing in, but Philip knew that by the time they arrived, it might be too late to capture Lane. The thought made his stomach churn with frustration