CHAPTER 14 The Breakout

He walked to the door, paused, then said, “I’m not going to hurt you. Yet. But you’ll stay here until I decide what to do with you.”

“Lock me up again?” I spoke softly.

He turned. “If that’s what it takes to make you remember where you belong.”

He hit a button, and the glass door slid shut with a hiss.

I stood frozen, looking at the transparent prison in the same room where I once painted, where I once claimed to be happy.

He stood on the other side, watching me. “You were beautiful when you were quiet,” he said softly. “Don’t make me miss that version of you.”

I glared at him. “You’ll never see her again.”

His eyes darkened. “That’s a shame.” Then he left.

Hours passed, maybe minutes, maybe forever. My mind ran wild.

Was Nathaniel alive? Was Charles joking about the accident? Was this the end, or another one of his games?

I pressed my palm against the glass. It felt cold, dead, just like the man who built it.

Then, faintly, I heard something.

A whisper.

It came from the vent near the floor. I crouched, heart beating.

A folded note slid through the small gap.

My hands shook as I picked it up. The paper was rough, torn from a pad.

Only five words were written, but they made my blood run cold.

“Tonight. Window. Don’t hesitate.”

My breath caught. Who?

Was it Nathaniel? Isabella? Or someone else entirely?

I looked up at the ceiling, searching for cameras. There were none in this roomCharles wanted me to see him, not the other way around.

My heart raced. If I tried to flee, and this was a trap, it would be over. But if I stayed, I’d become exactly what he wanted again: silent, broken, obedient.

I pressed the note to my chest and whispered, “Please, let this be real.”

A sudden noise echoed outside footsteps, low words, the hum of stress.

Then his voice again, remote but clear. “Keep an eye on her. She’s unpredictable.”

I went cold.

Unpredictable. That was what he called me when he was afraid I’d think for myself.

I sat on the edge of the cold glass table, holding the note.

Tonight. Window. Don’t pause.

It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order from someone who knew what was coming.

And yet, fear wrapped around my chest. What if this wasn't a rescue , what if it was another game?

I shut my eyes, saying to the quiet, “Nathaniel… please, come for me.”

The door beeped again.

Charles stepped back inside, slower this time, his face unreadable.

“Still awake?”

I said nothing.

He studied me for a long moment. “You should rest. Tomorrow might be… revealing.”

“What do you mean?” I asked quietly.

He smiled weakly. “Let’s just say your friend won’t stay hidden much longer.”

My stomach twisted. “You found him?”

“Oh, I didn’t need to. He’ll come to me. He always does.”

He turned to leave again, but I said, “Charles.”

He stopped.

I swallowed my pride. “If you ever loved me, even a little, don’t hurt him.”

He didn’t look back when he said, “That’s the difference between us, Ava. You think love means kindness. I know it means power.”

When he left, I sank to my knees, my hands shaking.

Power. That was all he ever understood. And maybe… that was how I had to fight him now.

I stared at the window, the one facing the yard. The one no one ever used.

The note burned in my hand.

If I was going to leave, it had to be tonight.

But before I could move, a soft mechanical click came from behind the wall.

I went cold.

Then, through the reflection on the glass, I saw it just for a moment.

A small red light blinking in the corner.

Someone was watching.

I mumbled, “No… not again.”

I took a step closer, squinting. The light blinked once. Then it went dark.

My pulse raced.

Was it Nathaniel trying to reach me or Charles setting another trap?

The quiet pressed against my chest until I could barely breathe.

I looked down at the note again. The words seemed to whisper back at me, pushing me forward.

Tonight. Window. Don’t pause.

I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood.

“I won’t,” I said aloud. “Not this time.”

But deep down, I knew the truth: every move I made was being watched by someone.

And whoever it was, they weren’t just watching.

They were waiting.

The dim red light blinked back on steady this time. Then, through the vent, another note slipped in.

This one had only three words.

“He knows. Run.”

I don’t lose people I care about.

Àa The words were simple. They were all that mattered as I watched her through the glass. She looked small there. But she had a fight in her eyes that I’d learned to trust more than I trusted plans.

Isabella had been quiet in the car. Too quiet. I drove without speaking for a while. The radio was off. Her hand pressed a wrapped bundle into mine. “This is everything,” she said. “Be careful with it. It burns both ways.”

I opened it. Paper, files, a flash drive taped to a folded letter. My throat tightened. I didn’t feel comfortable. I felt the old, familiar weight of war.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked.

She met my eyes. “I’m sure I don’t want him in my life anymore. I’m sure I want him to feel the fall he made for me.”

Her voice was steady. But I had seen her hands shake when she sat in the visitor chair at the safehouse the first time. I had seen the way her smile hid a thousand fears. She hadn’t come to play both sides anymore. She’d come to end a brother.

I thought for a moment about trusting her, about trusting anyone. Trust was a coin Charles had destroyed. But I also thought about Ava on the floor with a dart in her neck and Silas muttering that line about being “home.” I thought about the look on Ava’s face when she said she might be pregnant. I thought about my father’s hollow eyes.

We moved fast. The plan was tight and loud in my head.

“Tell me everything,” I said.

She told me about the guard shift, about a temporary exhaust valve by the west hallway, about a delivery window the cameras missed for thirty seconds every two hours. She told me names. She gave me a list of entry codes and a promise: “When that vault opens, don’t hesitate. Take what you need.”

We practiced the route in the car. We spoke in low, short words. Time was a line we had to beat.

When the call came inIsabella’s voice on the burner my heart jumped. “Now,” she said. “They’ll be changing the patrol. You have thirty seconds from the back gate.”

Thirty seconds was a lifetime and a trap.