Chapter 4 - Shadows over Callaway CapitalThat evening, the guest house at the edge of the Callaway estate was dimly lit. Flynn sat at a wooden workbench in the small garage, meticulously cleaning the components of a satellite encrypted laptop.
Little Lily was asleep in the main bedroom, wrapped in a pink blanket with her stuffed bear beside her.
A sharp knock sounded at the side door.
Flynn didn't reach for a tool. He reached beneath the workbench, his fingers resting on the grip of a customized Glock 19.
“It’s me, Flynn,” a gravelly voice called out.
Flynn relaxed slightly and opened the door. Leonard Callaway stepped inside, leaning heavily on his silver-topped cane.
“She’s asking questions,” Leonard said, taking a seat on a wooden stool.
“She’s smart,” Flynn replied, closing his laptop. “She saw the Crestwood incident outside the courthouse today. She knows I’m not a plumber.”
Leonard sighed, rubbing his worn temples. “Victor Crestwood is getting desperate. He knows that if Margot secures the Mercer deal, Callaway Capital will control seventy percent of the regional market. Crestwood’s firm is over-leveraged. If he loses Mercer, he goes under.”
“And he’s willing to kidnap or intimidate your granddaughter to stop it,” Flynn noted, his eyes narrowing.
“That is why I brought you back, Captain Delaney,” Leonard said, looking at Flynn with profound respect. “When your Special Forces unit was ambushed in Syria six years ago, my logistics firm brought you out. You saved my son’s life back then, even if you couldn't save his team. I promised I would protect your daughter when you retired from Ghost Squad.”
Flynn’s gaze softened as he looked toward the bedroom where Lily slept. “You kept your word, Leonard. You gave us a quiet life here.”
“Now I need you to protect Margot,” Leonard urged softly. “She thinks she can fight corporate monsters with spreadsheets and lawyers. She doesn't understand that men like Crestwood hire mercenaries when spreadsheets fail.”
“She hates me, Leonard,” Flynn said with a faint, bitter smile. “She thinks I’m a gold-digger.”
“Let her think whatever she needs to think for now,” Leonard said, standing up. “Just keep her alive.”
Meanwhile, in the main mansion three hundred yards away, Margot sat in her expansive home office, staring at a background check report on Flynn Delaney.
The paper trail was air-tight. It listed him as an independent residential contractor with a small LLC registered in Tennessee. Discharged from the U.S. Army after eight years of service with standard honorable discharge papers. No criminal record. No major financial assets.
It was too clean.
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Margot poured herself a glass of scotch, her eyes lingering on the window that overlooked the guest house.
“Who are you really, Flynn?” she whispered to the empty room.
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