Chapter 8 - THE ESCAPE THROUGH THE FLAMESUpstairs, the rehabilitation center was descending into panic. Sirens wailed, flashing red lights painted the hallways in bleeding shadows, and terrified nurses were ushering patients toward the main evacuation exits.
In the second-floor solarium, Ava sat in her wheelchair, her fingers gripping the armrests so tightly her knuckles were stark white.
The door burst open.
It wasn't a nurse. It was two armed corporate security guards wearing heavy tactical vests.
"Grab the kid," the lead guard barked, stepping toward Ava. "Vance wants her secured in the transport van before the feds arrive."
Ava didn't scream. With a burst of cold, calculated fury born of three years of pent-up silence, she grabbed the heavy brass flowerpot from the side table and hurled it with all her might directly into the first guard’s visor.
Crash!
The guard stumbled back, cursing, but his partner lunged forward, grabbing the handles of the wheelchair. "Don't be stupid, kid—"
Suddenly, the hallway door behind them was kicked open with a thunderous bang.
Mason stood in the doorway, a heavy fire extinguisher in his left hand. Without a word of warning, he hurled the heavy metal cylinder like a baseball. It caught the second guard squarely in the chest, sending him crashing backward through the glass partition.
"Ava!" Sienna shouted, running into the room behind Mason, her designer clothes stained with soot and water.
"Mom!" Ava cried out, tears streaming down her face as Mason scooped her out of the wheelchair with terrifying gentleness, cradling her against his chest.
"We can't take the elevators," Mason said, scanning the smoke-filled hallway where the emergency sprinkler system had just triggered, turning the corridor into a torrential indoor storm. "The stairwell on the west wing leads to the service alley. Move!"
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Bullets sparked against the corridor wall behind them as the recovering guard opened fire.
Mason shielded Sienna and Ava with his own body, returning fire with the pistol he had taken from Dr. Marsh, neutralizing the threat with three precise, clinical shots into the security system junction box overhead. The corridor plunged into absolute darkness, illuminated only by the strobing red fire alarms.
