Chapter 35: The Escape (Liam POV)
Zoe’s voice cut off, “I’m going dark,” and the silence hit hard. I looked up from the laptop, my hands frozen mid-type, my heart racing. Nate stood there, the burner phone shaking in his grip, his face pale. “She’s gone,” he said, his voice low, rough, like he couldn’t believe it. My stomach twisted. Zoe was our way out, our shot to get the video and folder public. Now she was running, and we were stuck.
I shut the laptop, my hands sweaty, the files copied and ready. “What now?” I asked, my voice shaky, my eyes on him. He didn’t answer, just stared at the phone, his breath fast. I saw it—the fear, the weight, crashing down on him. I’d put him there, left him to carry this alone when I testified. Guilt stabbed me, sharp and cold.
“We’ve got to go,” he said finally, his voice hard, shoving the phone in his pocket. “They’re onto her—they’ll find us next.”
I nodded, my chest tight, grabbing the flash drive from the desk. The video—Harper in the server room—was on it, our proof. Nate snatched the blue folder—Graham’s accounts, the blackmail list with my name—his hands tight around it. “They can’t get both,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “We split up—throw them off.”
“Split up?” I said, my voice jumping, my hands clenching the drive. “Nate, no—we stick together.”
“No time,” he said, his voice sharp, heading for the door. “That SUV—it’s Harper’s people. They’ll take it all if we’re caught. You take the drive, I take the folder.”
I stared at him, my legs heavy, my heart pounding. Split up—alone again, after I’d just got him back. “What if they—” I started, my voice breaking, but he cut me off.
“They won’t,” he said, his eyes hard but soft too, like he saw my fear. “You’re fast—you’ll make it. Meet me at the old warehouse in two hours.”
I swallowed, my throat tight, nodding slowly. “Okay,” I said, my voice low. “Two hours.”
He opened the door, peeking out, then waved me over. “Now,” he said, his voice urgent. We slipped into the hall, the air cold, the quiet heavy. My shoes hit the stairs loud, my hands shaking as we ran down. Nate was ahead, his steps quick, the folder tucked under his arm. I kept the drive in my fist, my mind on him—his safety, his face, the way he’d looked at me in the park.
We hit the street, the night dark, the wind biting. The black SUV was there—closer now, lights off, parked at the corner. My breath caught, my legs freezing. “They’re moving,” Nate whispered, his voice tight, nodding as the engine growled to life. “Go left. I’ll go right.”
“Nate—” I started, my voice shaky, but he grabbed my arm, his grip hard.
“Run,” he said, his eyes locked on mine, then let go, bolting right toward the alley. I watched him for a second—his hood up, the folder clutched tight—then turned, my legs kicking in, running left down the street.
The SUV’s tires squealed, the sound sharp behind me. I didn’t look back, just ran, my heart slamming, my breath burning. The street blurred—cars, lights, shadows—as I ducked into an alley, narrow and dark. My shoes splashed in puddles, my hands scraping brick as I turned corners, fast, faster. The engine roared somewhere close, headlights flashing at the alley’s end. They were after me—or Nate—or both.
I cut left again, my chest heaving, my mind spinning. Nate—he’d be okay, right? He had to be. I pictured him running, dodging, that look he’d given me—“You’ll make it.” I had to believe it, had to keep going. The flash drive dug into my palm, my fingers tight around it. Harper’s face on that video—stealing, smirking—it was everything. I couldn’t let them take it, couldn’t let her win.
The alley twisted, trash cans clanging as I shoved past. My legs burned, my breath ragged, but I kept moving, weaving through the backstreets. The engine faded, then roared again—closer, too close. I ducked behind a dumpster, my back against cold metal, my hands shaking as I peeked out. The SUV rolled past, slow, headlights sweeping. My heart stopped—they were hunting.
I waited, my breath held, until it turned the corner, then bolted again, my shoes slipping on wet ground. Nate—he was out there, running too, the folder in his hands. I saw his face in my head—tired, scared, but fighting. I’d left him once, sold him out to Graham, thinking it’d save him. Stupid, wrong. Now he was all I could think about—his voice, his touch, the way he’d trusted me tonight, just a little. I cared—more than I’d let myself admit.
Another alley—narrow, dark, a dead end ahead. I cursed, my hands on my knees, my chest heaving. The engine growled again, distant but coming. I turned, looking for a way out—stairs, rusted, leading up to a roof. My legs shook as I climbed, the metal creaking, my hands slipping on the cold bars. I hit the top, crouching low, my breath fogging in the air. The SUV stopped below, doors slamming, voices low.
I peeked over, my heart racing—two figures, dark suits, scanning the alley. Harper’s men—or Graham’s. My stomach sank, my hands clenching the drive. They hadn’t seen me, not yet. I stayed still, my mind on Nate—where was he? Was he safe? I needed him to be, needed us to make it. This—running, fighting—it was for him, for us, to fix what I’d broken.
The men moved, slow, checking corners, their voices sharp. I edged back, my hands sweaty, my legs ready to run again. The roof was flat, a gap to the next building—close enough to jump. I took a breath, my chest tight, and leapt, my feet hitting hard, rolling to a stop. My hands shook, the drive still safe, my breath fast. I was clear—for now.
I stood, my legs wobbly, my eyes scanning the dark. The warehouse—two hours. I could make it, had to. Nate—he’d be there, waiting. I started moving, keeping low, the alleys my cover. My mind stayed on him—his face, his voice, the way he’d looked at me in the park, hurt but hoping. I cared—too much to lose him again.
The streets quieted, my steps slowing, my chest still burning. I turned a corner, my hands in my pockets, thinking I’d made it—then froze. Two suited men stepped out, blocking my path, their faces hard. My heart sank, my hands clenching. One growled, low and mean, “Graham wants a word.”