109

Sophia yanked me harder, faster, whispering hurried words that barely cut through the frantic haze of my thoughts. “You need to get to him before they do. I can’t stop the operation, I can’t even delay it much, but if they find out you’re missing, they might move sooner. You have to be fast, Eleanor. You have to be faster than them.”

I nodded, but I wasn’t sure I had actually agreed to anything. I wasn’t sure I could do anything but move, my body following the momentum of her pull. My breath was coming out in ragged gasps, my lungs tight, my chest burning, my fingers curled into fists as if clenching them tight enough would keep me from falling apart. The hallway stretched endlessly before us, dark and suffocating, the flickering red lights behind us already distant, swallowed by the blackness ahead. My pulse pounded in my ears, my stomach churned, my thoughts swam. It was too much. Too fast. Too terrifying.

Then, abruptly, she stopped. My body jolted forward from the sudden halt, my breath catching as I almost crashed into her. She finally released my wrist, and without hesitation, she pressed both palms flat against the dead-end wall in front of us. Her fingers moved with urgency, tracing over the surface as if searching for something unseen. I swallowed hard, wiping the sweat off my palms against my thighs, my eyes darting around us, my heart hammering. The silence was thick, but it wasn’t comforting—it was pressing, watching, waiting.

Then I heard it. A click. A shift. And then, slowly, so painfully slow, she pulled at something hidden in the wall, a latch I hadn’t even seen, and a door cracked open before us.

A gust of wind exploded into the hallway, and I stumbled back on instinct, my hands flying up to shield my face. Cold. It was cold. So fucking cold. The air ripped through the narrow passage, biting against my skin, sending my hair flying in wild, tangled strands around me. Sophia’s too. Her dark hair whipped violently, her face momentarily obscured by the strands before she turned sharply, her voice low and urgent. “Go. You need to go, Eleanor. I’ll try to stall them, but you need to get to your son before they do. If Vaughn finds him first—”

She didn’t finish. She didn’t have to. I already knew. I already felt it in the pit of my stomach, in the marrow of my bones. If Vaughn got to him first, I would never see him again.

I moved. I stepped forward, past the door, into the night air. And then immediately, immediately, I recoiled.

The wind slammed into me, almost pushing me back into the hallway, forcing the breath from my lungs. It wasn’t just cold—it was suffocating. The moment I stepped out, it was like stepping into a storm, into something feral and angry and unstoppable. The balcony stretched out before me, metal railing rattling against the force of the wind, the air thick with moisture, thick with the salty sting of the ocean that stretched endlessly below us. My skin prickled as droplets of water splashed against me, the waves crashing violently against the building, sending white sprays up into the air, reaching us even from this height. It was chaos. It was deafening. The sound of the ocean roared, the wind howled, my heart pounded.

I turned to Sophia, my eyes wide, my breath shaking. She met my gaze, unwavering. “It’s the only way,” she said, her voice barely audible over the wind.

My stomach twisted. My hands clenched the railing, my nails digging into the metal. The drop wasn’t too far—maybe two floors, maybe three. But the water was wild, dark, swallowing everything in its wake. It wasn’t a leap I wanted to take. It wasn’t a leap I could take. But then I thought of my son. I thought of his face, his cries, his tiny hands reaching for me. And I knew I didn’t have a fucking choice.

My breath came in short, uneven bursts, my fingers gripping the cold railing so hard my knuckles ached, the metal biting into my skin. My body swayed, my stomach twisting into knots so tight they felt like they would never unravel. The water below churned violently, waves slamming into the base of the building with an unforgiving force, roaring, endless, swallowing everything in its path. The distance between me and the surface was impossible to gauge in the dark, but it didn’t matter. Whether it was two floors, three, or more, the fall would hurt, and the impact—God, the impact would be hell. But I had no other choice. My baby was out there, vulnerable, waiting, and I needed to get to him before they did. The thought of Vaughn finding him first, of those monsters laying their hands on him, had my breath catching in my throat, my pulse hammering so hard in my ears that I barely heard Sophia’s voice when she spoke again.

“Be careful,” she whispered, her fingers wrapping around my wrist, her grip tight, almost desperate. Her eyes glistened, the dim light from inside catching the unshed tears clinging to her lashes, but she blinked them away quickly. “And never come back. Ever. Do you hear me?”

I swallowed, throat dry, my heart thundering against my ribs like a wild animal trying to escape its cage. “Never?” My voice was barely above a breath, hoarse, uncertain.

“Never,” she said, firm, her grip tightening just for a second before she exhaled sharply, her shoulders stiff. “If they get you again, there won’t be another chance. There won’t be another way out. You have to go and never look back.”

I felt the sting in my chest, the finality in her words settling deep in my bones. This was goodbye. I had nothing left here but pain and danger, and if I stayed, if I hesitated even a second longer, I was done for. So I moved before I could think, before my fear could paralyze me, wrapping my arms around Sophia in a sudden, desperate embrace. She stiffened for a moment before her hands came up, gripping me tightly, her fingers pressing into my back as if she could anchor me there, as if she wasn’t about to let me go. But then she did. She pulled back abruptly, looking over her shoulder into the dark hallway, her body going rigid as she listened. A second passed. Then another. No sounds. No footsteps. But we both knew that could change in an instant.

“Go,” she whispered urgently, her hands now on my shoulders, giving me one final push towards the railing.

I turned back towards the water, sucking in a breath that didn’t feel like enough, my body protesting, every muscle screaming at me not to do this. But I had to. So, with my hands gripping the edge, I hoisted myself up, my heart leaping into my throat as I swung my legs over. The wind hit me like a freight train, slamming into my body, knocking the breath out of my lungs. My hair whipped around my face, stinging my skin, blinding me for a moment. Below, the ocean was a living thing, restless, raging, waves clawing at the air as if trying to reach me. My chest tightened, panic gripping me, but then I thought of my son, and I let go.

The fall lasted forever and no time at all. The wind tore past me, my stomach flipping, my limbs weightless, useless as I plummeted. And then the impact—God, the impact. The water was not soft, not welcoming. It was like crashing into concrete, slamming into me from every angle, knocking the air from my lungs in an instant. Pain exploded through my body, my skin stinging, my bones rattling. My ears rang, my vision went white for a second, and then I was under, sucked down so fast I had no time to react. The cold hit me next, a bone-deep, unforgiving chill that wrapped around me like ice, like death, stealing the last remnants of warmth from my skin, from my blood. My limbs refused to move, frozen, my lungs burning as I fought against the instinct to inhale, to suck in the freezing water that pressed against my lips, that slipped past my teeth as I struggled.

The waves tossed me, spun me, yanked me deeper, then up, then down again, disorienting me so badly I didn’t know which way was the surface. My arms flailed, my legs kicking wildly, but it was like fighting against a force so much greater than myself, something that had no mercy, no care for whether I lived or died. The current dragged me, pulling me towards the rocks, towards the crashing waves that slammed against the building with relentless force. I could hear it underwater, the distant, muffled roar of water meeting stone, the deep, vibrating boom of waves slamming against the structure, and I knew if I was pulled that way, if I hit those rocks, I was dead.

I fought harder, clawing at the water, twisting my body, kicking with everything I had. My lungs were screaming now, my chest tightening to the point of unbearable pain. My vision swam, black spots dancing behind my eyelids. The need to breathe was overwhelming, unbearable, my instincts screaming at me to inhale, to suck in air that wasn’t there. And then, finally, finally, my head broke the surface, and I gasped, sucking in air so desperately it burned my throat. But the victory was short-lived. A wave crashed over me before I could take a second breath, shoving me back under, water forcing itself down my throat, filling my mouth, my nose, my lungs. I choked, coughing violently, body seizing as panic clawed at me, as my limbs flailed in another desperate attempt to break free.

I surfaced again, sputtering, gagging, barely able to keep my head above water. My limbs were weak, my muscles shaking from the cold, from the strain, but I had to move. I had to swim. The shore wasn’t far—I just needed to get there before the waves pulled me under again. My arms cut through the water sluggishly, each stroke feeling like a battle, my body working against me. But I kept going. I had to. For my son. For me. For the chance to survive.

The waves fought me the entire way, pushing me back, dragging me sideways, but I didn’t stop. My fingers brushed something solid, and I latched on instantly, gripping the jagged rocks with every ounce of strength I had left. My body slammed against the surface, scraping my skin, sending a fresh jolt of pain up my arms, but I ignored it. I hauled myself up, coughing violently, water spilling from my mouth, my lungs still burning, my body trembling from exhaustion, from the relentless cold. But I was alive.

I dragged myself onto the rocks, collapsing onto my back, my chest heaving, my mind spinning. The wind still howled, the ocean still raged behind me, but I had made it. I had escaped. Now, I just had to run. And I was fucking cold. 

I lay on the jagged rocks, my body trembling so violently I felt like I was still in the water, being tossed and swallowed by the relentless waves. My limbs ached—no, they screamed. Every inch of my body pulsed with the kind of pain that came from being battered and beaten by nature itself. My lungs felt raw, the air slicing through them as I sucked in desperate gulps, my chest heaving, my ribs protesting. The cold was beyond anything I had ever felt before. It wasn’t just on my skin—it was inside me, buried deep in my bones, spreading through me like poison. My soaked clothes clung to me like a second skin, heavy and stiff, like they had fused with my flesh, like I would never feel warmth again. My fingers dug into the rough surface beneath me, feeling the cruel, jagged edges of the rocks pressing into my palms, scraping my frozen skin. I needed to move. I needed to get up. But my body wasn’t listening. My head lolled to the side, my damp hair sticking to my face, to my lips, to my throat. I could taste the salt on my tongue, feel it crusting against my skin. The ocean was still roaring behind me, still raging, still threatening to pull me back in, but I had made it out.

I had fucking made it out.