Chapter 5 - The Darkest Hour
The sound of splintering wood echoed through the basement like a gunshot. I scrambled into the furthest corner of the hidden room, my hand pressed against my stomach as a sharp, rhythmic pain pulsed through me—a contraction brought on by the sheer terror of the moment.
"I know you're in here, Isabelle!" Sarah shouted, her voice distorted by the metal door. "Open it, or we burn this place down with you inside!"
I fumbled with the wall panel, finding the emergency release for the hidden tunnel Julian had mentioned in the journals. As I pulled the lever, the floor beneath me shifted, dropping me into the dark, damp crawlspace of the home's foundation. Dust choked me as I began to crawl, the weight of the baby making every inch a grueling labor. Behind me, I heard the basement door explode inward.
The stress was too much. The contraction hit me again, doubling me over in agony. I was going into labor.
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I crawled until I saw a sliver of moonlight, emerging into the cold night air behind a thicket of pine trees. I didn't stop. I stumbled through the woods, the contractions coming faster, closer together. I had no car, no weapon, only my phone—which was now buzzing incessantly with notifications: Data leaked. Viral surge. Major headlines.
I reached the highway just as a passing delivery truck slowed for a curve. I threw myself into the middle of the road, waving my arms. The driver slammed on his brakes, skidding to a halt. As I climbed into the cab, screaming in pain, I realized Genevieve’s men were closing in behind me. The truck driver, a bewildered man named Frank, didn't ask questions; he just floored it, the roar of the engine drowning out the gunshots fired into the night air behind us.
