Chapter 22 - Flight Through the Pines
The lock held, but the brass groaned under deliberate pressure. From the driveway, the sound of a second car door thudded shut. There were more of them.
I didn't hesitate. Slipping off my shoes to move silently in my wool socks, I adjusted the canvas baby carrier against my chest, strapping Leo securely against my torso and zipping my oversized rain jacket over both of us so only his small nose and eyes peeked out. He let out a soft whimper of protest at being jostled, and I pressed a pacifier into his mouth, whispering silent, frantic prayers into his damp hair.
I crept toward the rear of the cottage. The back pantry opened into a small mudroom that led directly to a narrow storm door facing the dense spruce forest.
Behind me, the sharp crack of shattering safety glass echoed through the living room.
They were inside.
"Search the perimeter," a man's voice barked from the hallway, accented, crisp, and devoid of emotion. "Ensure the infant is unharmed. Lady Genevieve requires him intact before midnight."
I shoved the storm door open against the rising gale, stepping out into the freezing sea rain. The cold hit my face like a slap of ice water, but the adrenaline surging through my veins turned my limbs to iron. I plunged into the undergrowth, the wet pine needles muffling my steps as the black forest swallowed us whole.
May you like
Behind me, the cottage lights flared on one by one, illuminating the churning fog like lanterns on a ghost ship. I kept my head down, shielding Leo with both arms, running blindly along the old deer trail toward the abandoned access road Ethan had marked on my map three days ago.
Every snap of a twig sounded like a gunshot. The ocean roared to my left, an invisible abyss at the edge of the cliffs, while behind us, the distant beam of a high-powered flashlight swept through the dripping pine canopy, hunting our trail.
