Chapter 197

Chapter 197
Angela POV
I hate being powerless. I hate the way fear curls around my chest like a living thing, constricting, suffocating, making every breath feel heavy and inadequate. I clutch my stomach instinctively, feeling the twins shift inside me, tiny reminders that I cannot crumble completely. Not yet. Not when there is so much to protect.
Demetri’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and commanding. “We move them now.”
I look up at him. He isn’t shouting. He doesn’t need to. Every word carries authority, every movement communicates urgency. I know he’s not speaking to me personally, but his order lands squarely on my shoulders anyway. My children. The twins. Leo. Eleni. Sofia. All of them must survive. I must survive.
The men around us move quickly, silently. Burak is there, standing off to the side, watching. His face is tense, and his eyes flick toward mine, as if seeking confirmation that I am still breathing, still thinking. I nod subtly. He understands. He has already risked his life for them. For us. I do not have the luxury of thanking him properly. There is no time.
Nomiki’s twins are already strapped into a carrier. She moves with practiced efficiency despite the panic that flickers across her face. Maya follows close behind, Markos safe in her arms, eyes wide and alert to every sound. Anna walks beside her, holding her hand firmly, her face pale but resolute.
I gather my children last. Leo clings to me, his small arms around my neck. Eleni and Sofia tangle their tiny fingers in mine, and I feel the weight of responsibility pressing down, heavier than any gun or threat we’ve faced. “Stay close,” I whisper, more to myself than to them.
The underground tunnel is dark, damp, and narrow. My boots echo against the concrete floor as we move quickly, the walls closing in around us. Every shadow feels like a threat. Every sound is amplified. My chest tightens as contractions flare low and persistent. Not labor yet, just warnings. I grit my teeth and keep walking. I cannot let them see me falter.
Burak walks beside me. He doesn’t speak. His presence is enough. He glances at the children, his jaw tight, and I know the conflict within him is sharp — loyalty, guilt, fear, and now a strange protective bond he cannot deny. He saved them once. He would do it again. And yet I know he cannot protect them from everything. None of us can.
Nomiki whispers something to me, worry and exhaustion lacing her words. “Are you… okay?”
I force a smile, though it does not reach my eyes. “I’m fine. Focus on the kids.”
The tunnel branches suddenly. Demetri stops us, raising his hand. The lights flicker from his portable lantern, casting jagged shadows across the concrete walls. “Split into teams. We need speed and stealth. The main path is likely compromised. Take secondary routes.”
I take a deep breath and follow the path with Maya and Anna. Burak falls behind to stay with Nomiki and the twins. I glance over my shoulder at him and catch his gaze. He nods once, just enough to reassure. I can see it in his eyes — he trusts us to move, even if he cannot be with us every second.
The secondary bunker comes into view, a reinforced steel door set into the rock. The relief is immediate, but fleeting. There is no safety yet. We have not reached the heart of it. The children are safe for now, but the threat is still alive, still circling above.
I guide the children inside. The air is cool, damp, but safe. Nomiki and Maya move quickly to secure the room, double-checking locks, scanning for structural weaknesses. Anna settles in beside me, holding my hand briefly before moving to help with the supplies.
I finally allow myself a moment to breathe. Just a moment. The contractions tighten again, reminding me that my body is not immune to fear. My eyes close as I lean against the cold wall, trying to slow my breathing. I will not panic. Not here. Not now. Not with them depending on me.
Hours pass like this. Time stretches and compresses in an endless loop of whispers, footsteps, and muted commands over radios. We talk quietly, mostly about the children — what they need, who will feed them, who will keep watch. Every word, every plan, is laced with urgency.
Burak eventually returns to our bunker, his boots echoing softly as he enters. He does not speak at first. He simply scans the room, taking in the children, the women, the organized chaos. Then he meets my eyes. “They’re safe,” he says, his voice low. “For now.”
I nod, swallowing the lump of gratitude and fear that rises in my throat. “We have to keep it that way,” I whisper.
He steps closer, lowering his voice so only I hear. “You need to rest, Angela.”
I shake my head stubbornly, ignoring the tightening in my abdomen. “Not yet. We keep moving first. I will rest when the others are safe.”
The children laugh softly, unaware of the danger that surrounds us, and my chest tightens. It is a sharp, emotional ache, a mixture of relief, love, and terror. I cannot let them see the full scope of the fear in my heart. They must see only calm. Only safety.
Demetri checks in quietly. “All secure?”
I nod. “For now.”
But even as the words leave my mouth, I know they are temporary. The Broker has not been defeated. The war is far from over. We are hiding, waiting, but soon we will have to fight again.
And I will be ready. For them. For the children. For my family.
Because no matter the risk, no matter the fear, I will not let anything take them from me. Not now. Not ever.