Chapter 145: Hospital Straight

Rhys positioned himself near the main door of the warehouse, his weapon raised, his breathing steady despite the adrenaline flooding his veins. David was at his shoulder, the rest of the team spread out along the perimeter, covering every possible exit.

Rhys held up his hand, fingers extended. The team went still, waiting.

"On my count," Rhys whispered into his comm, his voice barely audible. "Three."

He saw David tense beside him, ready.

"Two."

The men at the back entrance signaled they were in position.

"One. Go."

Rhys slammed his boot into the door. It burst open with a deafening sound, splintering off its rusted hinges. The team poured in behind him in their dark uniforms.

"Clear!" David called from the left.

"Clear!" another voice echoed from the right.

They moved through the warehouse, checking every corner, every shadow, every possible hiding spot. Dust swirled in the beams of their flashlights. The air was cold..

"Second floor clear," came the report from above.

Rhys's heart pounded. They had searched every inch. The building was empty. No Noah. No Chloe. No kidnappers.

He stopped in the center of the main floor, his flashlight beam sweeping across the space. Then he saw it, a mattress in the corner, stained and rumpled. He walked toward it, his boots crunching on broken glass.

The mattress was damp. A dark, unmistakable stain spread across its surface. Chloe's water had broken. She had been here. Recently.

"She was here," Rhys said, his voice tight. "They moved her."

David joined him, studying the scene. "There has to be another way out. A back door we missed. A tunnel."

Rhys's flashlight swept the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. Then he saw it, a gap in the far corner, hidden behind a rusted metal shelf. The dust on the floor was disturbed, dragged toward the opening.

"There." He pointed. "They went that way."

The team converged on the passage, flashlights revealing a narrow, dark tunnel that disappeared into the earth.

"Stay sharp," Rhys ordered, stepping into the darkness. "We don't know what's down there. But she's alive. And we're going to find her."

The tunnel swallowed them.

The tunnel twisted deeper into the earth. Noah's lungs burned from the stale, damp air. Behind him, Krill and the others followed, their footsteps echoing off the wet concrete walls. The sounds of pursuit had faded, but none of them dared slow down.

"How much further?" one of the men gasped.

Krill consulted a crude map on his phone, a screenshot of old maintenance tunnels beneath the city. "There's an outlet ahead. A drainage pipe that empties into the river. We follow it out, we're in the open."

"And then what?" Noah asked, his voice sharp. "We swim?"

"If we have to."

The tunnel began to slope downward. Water pooled around their ankles, then their calves, cold and foul-smelling. The ceiling lowered, forcing them to crouch. Noah's heart hammered against his ribs. This wasn't part of the plan. Nothing was part of the plan anymore.

The water rose to their waists. Krill pushed forward, his flashlight cutting through the darkness.

"There!" he shouted, pointing.

Ahead, a large drainage pipe jutted from the wall, water rushing out of it in a steady current. Beyond it, pale grey light filtered through a rusted grate.

"The river," Krill said. "The grate is old. We can break through."

Noah hesitated. The water was cold, the current strong. But behind them, Thorne's team would be closing in. There was no choice.

Krill slammed his shoulder against the grate. It groaned but didn't give up. One of the other men joined him, then another. Together, they threw their weight against the rusted metal.

With a screech of tearing iron, the grate gave way, tumbling into the river beyond. Murky water surged through the opening, knocking them off balance.

"Go! Go! Go!" Krill shouted.

They plunged into the river, the cold shocking their systems. Noah surfaced, gasping, his clothes heavy with water. Behind him, the drainage pipe churned, and for a moment, he thought he heard voices echoing through the tunnel.

He didn't look back. He struck out for the opposite shore, his arms cutting through the murky water, his lungs burning. Krill and the others followed.

Behind them, the warehouse grew smaller, and the city showed up. Ahead, freedom. Noah's mind raced with plans: a stolen car, a hidden safe house, a way out of the country. He had lost Chloe, lost the ransom, lost everything.

But he was alive. And as long as he was alive, he could start over.

He pulled himself onto the muddy shore, collapsing on his back, staring up at the grey sky. Krill landed beside him, coughing up water.

"We need to split up," Krill said. "Make it harder for them to track us."

Noah nodded, too exhausted to argue. They scattered into the city, disappearing into the maze of streets and alleys, leaving behind the warehouse, the tunnels, and the woman they had abandoned in the dark.

Rhys's team pressed forward towards the tunnel, their flashlights cutting through the thick shadows, their boots splashing in the shallow pools that collected on the uneven floor.

"Spread out," David ordered. "She can't be far."

They moved methodically, checking every alcove, every branching passage. The tunnel seemed to go on forever, a relic of an older city buried beneath the modern streets.

Then, a shout.

"Over here! I found her!"

Rhys's heart stopped. He pushed through the team, his flashlight beam bouncing wildly, until he saw her.

Chloe was slumped against the wall, half-sitting in a pool of murky water. Her face was ghostly pale, her lips tinged with blue. Her hands rested on her swollen belly, and her eyes were closed.

"Chloe!" Rhys dropped to his knees beside her, his hand going to her neck, feeling for a pulse. It was there, weak, thready, but there. "She's alive. Get the medical team ready. Now."

David was already on the radio, calling for extraction.

Rhys gathered Chloe into his arms, cradling her against his chest. She was cold, so cold. He could feel the dampness of her clothes, the tremors running through her body.

"I've got you," he murmured, pressing his cheek to her hair. "I've got you. You're safe now."

She didn't respond. Her head lolled against his shoulder, her breathing shallow.

The team formed a protective perimeter as Rhys carried her back through the tunnel, his arms burning with the effort, his lungs straining against the stale air. He didn't stop. He didn't slow. He kept moving, one foot in front of the other, until he saw the grey light of the warehouse entrance ahead.

Outside, the medical team was waiting. They had set up a temporary triage station in the back of an Aegis van, monitors, oxygen, IV fluids, everything they needed to stabilize her before transport.

Rhys laid Chloe gently on the stretcher. The medics swarmed around her, checking vitals, starting an IV, wrapping her in warm blankets.

"She's in labor," one of them reported. "We need to get her to a hospital immediately."