The drive back to the estate was tense. Xavier sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, his jaw set in a grim line. Elizabeth sat in the back, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, trying to process the weight of everything she'd heard. Clara drove, her hands gripping the wheel tightly, the tension in her posture matching the atmosphere in the car.
Elizabeth's thoughts swirled with fear and uncertainty. Anderson was regrouping, and she knew she was the target. The idea that her life had become leverage in someone else's war was terrifying.
Xavier's voice broke the silence, low and steady. "Clara, what's the ETA?"
"Ten minutes," she replied, glancing at the GPS. "But we need a plan, Xavier. We can't just keep running from them. We need to strike back."
Elizabeth leaned forward, her voice trembling but resolute. "How? Anderson has resources, connections. We don't even know what his next move is."
