Keith Grimmer [The Great Escape]

The call came at 2:13 in the morning, just as Keith was finishing a financial report he'd been putting off for three days out of sheer boredom.

He was sitting barefoot on the hotel room floor in Tokyo, a mug of mediocre coffee in one hand and the laptop open in front of him, when the phone buzzed on the low table.

When Christopher Keller's name appeared on the screen, he barely raised an eyebrow before accepting the call.

"If this is about the Singapore report, I'd like to state for the record that Excel attacked me first."

Christopher didn't react.

"I need you to travel to Canada."

Keith leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling.

"Am I allowed to know which of my many talents you're exploiting this time?"

"An extraction."

That made him look back down.

"She's being exhibited in a private luxury trafficking network near Vancouver."

Keith felt an uncomfortable tug in his stomach.

Christopher explained the situation with his usual precision: a luxury trafficking network operating near Vancouver, a private exhibition, an extremely rare demihuman, and a possible extraction window before she disappeared from the radar again. The Keller Foundation had confirmed the information less than forty-eight hours ago. That was enough for Keith to stop looking at the report.

He listened in silence, leaning against the sofa, reading the intelligence report and memorizing coordinates, names, and access routes.

"Team?"

"Kyle will provide remote support from Eris. Satellite, cameras, routes, communications. Your contact in Canada will be Emil Franz. He got access to the exhibition."

Keith nodded slowly.

"And Miles?"

A brief pause.

"He's out this time."

Right.

That left an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. Christopher didn't sideline Miles from important operations without a reason.

Then he added, more seriously: "I don't want her to spend another night there."

Keith looked at the screen for a few seconds before closing the file.

"Well. That seriously complicates my plans to sleep this weekend."

Christopher ignored the comment the way he always did.

The call ended shortly after. Keith sat for a moment longer, staring at the Tokyo lights reflected in the hotel window.

Something didn't quite fit. And he hated that feeling.

---

Forty-eight hours later, Canada smelled like wet snow, gasoline, and old money.

The exhibition building was hidden among private forests and nearly empty roads. From the outside, it looked like an exclusive gallery for bored billionaires.

Keith used the fake credentials Emil had given him to get in.

"You are Mr. Blackwell tonight. Private collector."

"Mmh. I always dreamed of becoming an international criminal, but my teachers said I was wasting my potential."

From the inside...

Keith immediately understood why Christopher had avoided sending Miles. Lots of familiar faces.

That was the problem.

Classical music. Champagne glasses. Modern sculptures. Rich people chatting calmly while waiters moved through the hall.

"They say this specimen shouldn't even exist." "I heard they turned down offers from governments." "The genetics alone are worth a fortune."

Keith moved slowly among the guests, observing everything with that almost lazy calm that frustrated people who didn't know him well.

Glass cages lit like museum pieces. Exotic demihumans.

He moved among them in a perfectly fitted dark suit and fake credentials identifying him as a European private buyer. He looked comfortable there.

It was part of his job to look comfortable anywhere.

"Two new cameras in the north wing," Kyle murmured through the comm. "And before you ask, yes, it still seems like a terrible idea to me."

"Your optimism really holds this family together."

A small silence.

"Emil is approaching on your left."

Keith barely looked up when Emil Franz appeared beside him.

"Your access is still clean," the Canadian said quietly. "The main exhibition starts in less than five minutes."

"Perfect. I always wanted to find out what a bad international decision feels like."

Emil let out something close to a laugh before moving away again.

The lights began to dim slowly. The conversations faded.

And then the doors to the main hall opened.

The silence was immediate.

Keith looked up.

And he saw you.

For a second, he didn't quite understand what made the whole room feel different the moment you appeared.

It wasn't just that you were rare. It was something else.

There was something too aware in your gaze. Too alive. Too dangerous for the way everyone present was looking at you like you were an exclusive piece.

Keith felt his jaw tense slightly when he noticed the restraints on your body.

"Keith," Kyle murmured from Eris, quieter now.

Yeah.

He was seeing it too.

Your eyes slowly swept the room until they stopped on him.

And there was the problem.

Because you didn't look at him any differently than the rest.

You looked at him like just another person who had come to buy you.

Fair. Honestly.

"The opening bids have already exceeded expectations," Emil commented quietly, returning to his side.

Keith watched you for just a second longer before answering.

"Yeah. The general elegant-kidnapping vibe seems pretty popular."

---

The extraction started thirty-nine minutes later.

Kyle had managed to open a temporary window in the containment wing's cameras while Emil distracted some of the security on the main floor.

"You have ninety seconds. And Keith, try not to improvise too much."

"Since when do you doubt my excellent decisions?"

"Literally always."

Keith smiled faintly as he picked the last lock.

The door slid open.

And as soon as he stepped inside, you tried to attack him.

He reacted by reflex, grabbing your wrists before the improvised piece of metal you were holding could reach his neck.

"Well," he murmured between calm breaths. "Excellent welcome spirit."

You struggled again.

Keith held you firm against the wall without hurting you.

"Listen to me. Keller Foundation. We're here to get you out."

That earned a brief hesitation.

Just one.

Enough for the alarms to start going off.

Keith closed his eyes for a second.

"Fantastic. I was just saying this was going too well."

Red lights flooded the corridor as footsteps began approaching quickly.

"Keith," Kyle's voice tensed slightly. "Teams moving toward you. Faster than expected."

"Yeah, I'm sensing some environmental hostility."

Keith pushed you gently ahead of him as they started running down the service corridor.

"Run first. Trust crisis later."

They made it to the back parking lot just as the snowstorm started.

The gunfire came almost immediately.

Keith reacted instantly, pulling you to cover behind an armored vehicle as a bullet hit the concrete inches from you.

"Well," he murmured while checking the weapon Emil had secured locally. "Officially, this gala has lost several points in hospitality."

He fired twice behind him without losing his calm.

Too many men. Too fast. Too coordinated.

This didn't feel improvised.

It felt like someone knew exactly they were coming.

"Keith," Kyle said, more serious now. "I think the operation was leaked."

Yeah.

He was reaching exactly the same conclusion.

He felt the hot graze of a bullet slicing his side and let out a tired exhale.

"Hm. That was rude."

Still, he got back up and grabbed your arm to keep moving through the snow.

He could hear dogs, radios, and engines approaching from different sides of the perimeter.

Keith pushed you behind a metal container while catching his breath.

"Important question before we freeze to death," he said between ragged breaths. "Are you the kind of person who puts milk before cereal? Because that could seriously affect my emotional commitment to this mission."

You didn't get to answer.

Something hit the back of his head brutally.

Keith fell to his knees on the frozen snow, the weapon slipping out of his hand.

Several shadows appeared around them almost immediately.

He tried to get up, but they pinned him to the ground before he could.

And still, he turned his head slightly, looking for you among the red lights, the snow, and the chaos.

You were still fighting.

Of course you were.

Keith let out a short, exhausted laugh as blood ran down his temple.

"Yeah... I should have taken that as a warning when you tried to kill me walking in."

La llamada llegó a las 2:13. Keith terminaba un informe atrasado por aburrimiento.

Estaba sentado descalzo en el hotel de Tokio, con café malo y el portátil abierto. El teléfono vibró.

Vio el nombre de Christopher Keller. Aceptó.

"Si es por el reporte de Singapur, Excel me atacó primero."

Christopher no reaccionó.

"Viaja a Canadá."

Keith miró al techo.

"¿Qué talento mío explotas esta vez?"

"Extracción."

Bajó la vista.

"La exhiben en red de tráfico de lujo cerca de Vancouver."

Keith sintió un tirón en el estómago.

Christopher explicó: red de lujo cerca de Vancouver, exhibición privada, semihumana rara, ventana de extracción antes de que desaparezca. Fundación Keller confirmó hace 48 horas. Keith dejó de mirar el informe.

Escuchó en silencio, leyó el informe y memorizó coordenadas, nombres, rutas.

"¿Equipo?"

"Kyle da soporte remoto desde Eris. Satélite, cámaras, rutas. Tu contacto en Canadá es Emil Franz. Él tiene acceso."

"¿Y Miles?"

"Queda fuera esta vez."

Keith sintió incomodidad. Christopher no aparta a Miles sin motivo.

"No quiero que ella pase otra noche ahí", añadió.

Keith cerró el archivo.

"Bueno. Eso arruina mis planes de dormir este fin de semana."

Christopher ignoró el comentario.

La llamada terminó. Keith miró las luces de Tokio. Algo no encajaba. Lo odiaba.

---

48 horas después, Canadá olía a nieve húmeda, gasolina y dinero viejo.

El edificio de la exhibición estaba entre bosques. Desde afuera, galería para millonarios aburridos.

Keith usó la credencial falsa de Emil.

"Usted es el señor Blackwell. Coleccionista privado."

"Mmm. Siempre quise ser criminal internacional, pero mis profesores decían que desperdiciaba el potencial."

Dentro, Keith entendió por qué Christopher no envió a Miles. Muchas caras conocidas. Ese era el problema.

Música clásica. Champagne. Esculturas. Ricos conversando.

"Este ejemplar ni debería existir." "Rechazaron ofertas de gobiernos." "La genética sola vale una fortuna."

Keith avanzó con calma perezosa. Jaulas de vidrio iluminadas como museo. Semihumanos exóticos.

Traje oscuro perfecto. Credencial falsa. Parecía cómodo. Era su trabajo.

"Dos cámaras nuevas en el ala norte", dijo Kyle. "Y sí, sigue pareciéndome una idea terrible."

"Tu optimismo sostiene esta familia."

Silencio.

"Emil se acerca por tu izquierda."

Emil Franz apareció.

"Tu acceso sigue limpio. La exhibición principal empieza en cinco minutos."

"Perfecto. Siempre quise probar una mala decisión internacional."

Emil soltó algo parecido a una risa y se fue.

Las luces bajaron. Las conversaciones cesaron.

Las puertas se abrieron. Silencio.

Keith te vio.

No entendió qué hacía diferente la sala cuando apareciste. No era solo que fueras rara. Era otra cosa.

Algo muy consciente en tu mirada. Muy vivo. Muy peligroso para cómo te miraban como pieza exclusiva.

Keith notó las restricciones en tu cuerpo.

"Keith", murmuró Kyle.

Sí. Él también lo veía.

Tus ojos recorrieron la sala hasta detenerte en él. No lo miraste diferente al resto. Lo miraste como a otro que venía a comprarte.

Justificado.

"Las ofertas iniciales superaron lo esperado", dijo Emil.

Keith te observó un segundo más.

"Sí. El ambiente de secuestro elegante es bastante popular."

---

La extracción empezó 39 minutos después.

Kyle abrió una ventana en las cámaras del ala de contención. Emil distrajo a la seguridad.

"90 segundos. No improvises."

"¿Desde cuándo dudas de mis decisiones?"

"Desde siempre."

Keith sonrió. Abrió la cerradura. La puerta se deslizó.

Apenas entró, intentaste atacarlo. Te sujetó las muñecas antes de que el metal llegara a su cuello.

"Bueno. Excelente espíritu de bienvenida."

Forcejeaste. Te sostuvo firme contra la pared.

"Escúchame. Fundación Keller. Venimos a sacarte de aquí."

Vacilaste. Solo un segundo.

Las alarmas sonaron.

Keith cerró los ojos.

"Fantástico. Decía yo que esto iba demasiado bien."

Luces rojas. Pasos acercándose.

"Keith, equipos hacia ustedes. Más rápido de lo previsto."

"Sí, percibo hostilidad ambiental."

Te empujó suavemente. Corrieron por el pasillo de servicio.

"Corre primero. Crisis de confianza después."

Salieron al estacionamiento trasero. Empezó la tormenta de nieve.

Disparos.

Keith te cubrió detrás de un vehículo blindado.

"Oficialmente, esta gala perdió varios puntos en hospitalidad."

Disparó dos veces. Demasiados hombres. Demasiado rápido. Demasiado coordinados.

Esto no era improvisado. Alguien sabía que iban a venir.

"Keith, creo que filtraron la operación."

Sí. Llegaba a la misma conclusión.

Sintió una bala rozarle el costado. Exhaló.

"Hm. Grosero."

Se levantó. Te tomó del brazo. Siguieron corriendo entre la nieve.

Perros, radios, motores acercándose.

Keith te empujó detrás de un contenedor.

"Pregunta importante antes de morir congelados. ¿Eres de los que pone leche antes del cereal? Porque eso afectaría mi compromiso emocional con esta misión."

No respondiste.

Algo golpeó su nuca. Cayó de rodillas. El arma resbaló.

Sombras. Lo inmovilizaron.

Giró la cabeza para buscarte entre luces rojas, nieve y caos.

Todavía peleabas. Claro.

Keith soltó una risa corta y agotada. Sangre en la sien.

"Sí... debí tomarlo como advertencia cuando intentaste matarme al entrar."