Chapter 5 - THE ESCAPE THROUGH THE FIREThe stairwell was cold, dark, and smelled of industrial bleach and old concrete.
As we descended rapidly down four flights of stairs, the heavy metal fire doors above us rattled violently as someone tried to force them open. Shouts echoed from the landing above—rough, commanding voices demanding we stop.
“Keep moving, Chloe! Don't look back!” Luka urged, his arm securely shielding my back as we navigated the concrete steps.
We reached the ground-level exit door marked Alarm Will Sound. Luka didn't hesitate; he swiped a small electronic override card against the magnetic lock, pushed the heavy steel bar, and shoved the door open into the cool, rainy night air.
Waiting idling in the shadows behind the hospital's laundry loading bays was a heavy-duty, matte-black SUV with tinted windows and its engine rumbling quietly.
The rear door swung open instantly. A sharp-faced man with a scarred eyebrow—whom I later learned was named Jax—waved us frantically inside.
“Move, move, move!” Jax barked.
Luka bundled me and the baby safely into the leather-lined backseat, climbing in right behind us and slamming the heavy door shut just as three private security guards burst out of the side exit door, guns drawn, shouting into their radios.
“Step on it, Jax,” Luka ordered calmly.
The SUV surged forward with a powerful roar of horsepower, tearing away from the loading dock and melting into the rainy labyrinth of the city streets before the guards could even get a clear look at the license plate.
I sat in the back of the armored vehicle, clutching my sleeping daughter to my chest, panting heavily as the city lights blurred into streaks of gold and neon outside the tinted windows.
Luka sat beside me, keeping a watchful eye on the rear digital monitoring screen. When he saw that we had cleanly broken pursuit, he let out a long, slow breath and clicked his weapon back into its holster.
“Are you alright, Chloe?” he asked, his voice softening once again as he turned to look at me.
“I… I don't know,” I confessed, my voice trembling as the sheer reality of what had just happened washed over me. “My husband abandoned me, my life has been upended in a matter of hours, and I’m fleeing in an armored car with a tattooed stranger who claims he’s known me since I was three years old. Why shouldn’t I be terrified?”
Luka looked down at his hands, silent for a long moment, before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a small, worn leather-bound journal. He handed it to me.
May you like
I took the journal with trembling fingers. As I flipped open the cover, my breath caught in my throat.
It was my father’s handwriting.
