Chapter 7 - The Sanctuary at Blackwood Lake
Guns barked through the roaring fog—sharp, blinding flashes of light cutting through the steam.
"Move! Move!" Detective Lin yelled, grabbing the handle of Lena’s wheelchair while I lifted baby Leo’s transport pod into my arms.
We sprinted through the blinding white mist, the sound of bullets ricocheting off concrete walls echoing behind us. We burst through the heavy rusted double doors at the end of the tunnel, plunging into the freezing night rain of the service alley.
Dr. Hayes’s black Volvo station wagon was idling near the dumpsters.
We threw the doors open, sliding Lena onto the back seat and securing Leo’s incubation pod safely between us. Detective Lin jumped into the front passenger seat, throwing her police badge out the window into the rain.
"I’m officially a fugitive now anyway," Lin grunted, slamming her door. "Drive!"
I slammed my foot onto the gas pedal. The tires screeched against the wet pavement, and the station wagon shot out of the alley just as Richard’s guards burst through the service doors, firing wildly into the night.
We drove for three straight hours into the dark, winding roads of the Adirondack Mountains, far away from city cell towers and police bands.
At 4:00 AM, the station wagon pulled up to a hidden timber cabin nestled deep within the pine trees along the shores of Blackwood Lake. It was a property my late grandfather had built fifty years ago—a place not registered in any public tax database, unknown to Richard, the police, or the Sterling empire.
Inside, the cabin was warm and dry. I set up a makeshift medical bay in the bedroom using the supplies Dr. Hayes had packed before we fled.
Lena lay under thick woolen blankets, her strength slowly returning as the neurotoxin fully flushed from her liver. Beside her bed, tiny Leo slept peacefully in his heated bassinet, his small fingers curled around my pinky finger.
I sat on the edge of the bed, holding Lena’s hand, resting my head against her shoulder.
"We made it," I whispered, tears of exhaustion soaking into her blanket. "We’re safe."
"Not yet, Ethan," Lena said softly, running her fingers through my damp hair. "Richard won't stop. By sunrise, he’ll have my mother’s estate trust legally dissolved if we don't present the original physical evidence to the Federal District Court in Manhattan."
"What physical evidence?" I asked, looking up.
Lena looked at me, her brown eyes blazing with intelligence and determination.
"Before Richard poisoned me," Lena said, "I took the original lab ledgers, the human trial reports, and a recorded confession from Dr. Vance. I hid them in the one place Richard would never dare to look."
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"Where?"
"Inside the family vault at the Sterling Manor," Lena said. "Behind my mother’s portrait."
