Chapter 15: No Way Back

Chapter 15: No Way Back

The chase tore through backroads Jhonatan didn't recognize, Glenmorrin's hands steady on the wheel despite the speed, despite the headlights that refused to fall behind no matter how many turns he took.

"Check the glove compartment," Glenmorrin said, voice clipped, focused entirely on the road. "There's a phone. Second contact on the list. Call it."

Jhonatan fumbled the compartment open with shaking hands, finding the phone, scrolling with trembling fingers until he found the number.

It rang twice before a low voice answered. "Go."

"It's Jhonatan. Glenmorrin's—" He glanced at Glenmorrin for guidance.

"Tell him we need extraction on Route 9, heading north," Glenmorrin said. "Now."

Jhonatan repeated the words, and the voice on the other end responded with a curt, "Copy. Ten minutes," before the line went dead.

"Ten minutes," Jhonatan said, gripping the phone tightly. "Can we last that long?"

"We're about to find out," Glenmorrin said, swerving hard around a bend, the headlights behind them briefly disappearing before reappearing closer than before.

Another shot rang out, this one close enough that Jhonatan felt the car shudder as it struck somewhere near the rear tire.

"They're aiming for the tires!" Jhonatan shouted.

"I noticed," Glenmorrin said grimly, cutting the wheel sharply onto a narrower road, trees crowding close on either side, the car bouncing hard over uneven ground.

The pursuing vehicle followed, undeterred, gaining ground on the tighter road where speed mattered less than precision, and precision seemed to favor whoever was behind them.

"Glenmorrin, they're getting closer," Jhonatan said, watching the headlights swell larger in the side mirror.

"I know." Glenmorrin's voice had gone flat, calculating. "Jhonatan, I need you to listen to me carefully. If they get close enough to force us off the road, I want you to unbuckle and get low, behind the seat, the moment I tell you to."

"What are you going to do?"

"Whatever it takes," Glenmorrin said.

The pursuing car surged forward, drawing level with their rear bumper, and Jhonatan caught a glimpse of the driver's face in the mirror—cold, focused, a man who did this for a living.

"Now!" Glenmorrin shouted.

Jhonatan unbuckled instantly, dropping low just as Glenmorrin yanked the wheel hard to the left. The pursuing car clipped their rear panel, metal screeching against metal, the impact sending their own car fishtailing wildly before Glenmorrin wrestled it back under control.

"Are you hurt?" Glenmorrin demanded, one hand reaching back to steady Jhonatan even as he kept the car straight with the other.

"I'm fine," Jhonatan gasped, pulling himself back up just enough to see over the dashboard. "Watch out!"

The pursuing car had recovered, angling in for another strike, but this time Glenmorrin was ready, braking hard at the last second so the other vehicle overshot, sailing past them into the empty road ahead.

Glenmorrin didn't hesitate. He rammed the accelerator down, striking the rear of the other car with enough force to send it spinning off the road entirely, crashing into the treeline in an explosion of shattered glass and crumpled metal.

Silence followed, broken only by their own ragged breathing and the ticking of the overheated engine.

"Is it over?" Jhonatan asked, voice shaking.

Glenmorrin didn't slow down. "There could be more. We keep moving until extraction arrives."

They drove in tense silence for what felt like an eternity but was likely only minutes, until headlights appeared ahead of them—two sleek black vehicles pulling to a stop at the roadside, doors already opening before Glenmorrin had fully stopped the car.

A tall woman with cropped hair and sharp eyes approached, immediately assessing the damage to their vehicle, then Jhonatan's pale face.

"You look like hell," she said to Glenmorrin, though there was clear relief in her tone.

"Nice to see you too, Reyna," Glenmorrin said, already moving around the car to help Jhonatan out, his hand steady beneath his arm.

"Who's the Omega?" Reyna asked, eyeing Jhonatan with sharp curiosity.

"Someone under my protection," Glenmorrin said, his tone leaving no room for further questions on the matter. "We need the second safehouse. The one under Marcus's name."

Reyna's eyebrows rose slightly, but she nodded without argument. "That serious?"

"Castellan knows about the first location," Glenmorrin said grimly. "So yes. That serious."

Reyna's expression sharpened at the name, some of her earlier ease evaporating. "Understood. We'll get you there within the hour."

Jhonatan allowed himself to be guided into one of the waiting vehicles, Glenmorrin close beside him, his hand finding Jhonatan's and holding tight as the car pulled away from the wreckage behind them.

"You did well back there," Glenmorrin said quietly, once they were moving, the adrenaline finally beginning to ebb from his voice. "You didn't panic."

"I was terrified," Jhonatan admitted.

"That's not the same thing," Glenmorrin said, echoing words he'd said once before.

Jhonatan leaned his head against the window, exhaustion settling deep into his bones, his free hand resting protectively over his stomach.

"They know where we live," Jhonatan said quietly. "They tried to kill us tonight."

"I know," Glenmorrin said, his voice tightening.

"What happens when they find the next place too?" Jhonatan asked, the question heavy with fear he could no longer suppress.

Glenmorrin was quiet for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, something hard and resolute settling into his expression.

"Then we stop running," Glenmorrin said finally. "And we make sure Castellan understands exactly what it costs to come after what's mine."

Jhonatan looked at him, startled by the sudden shift in his tone—not fear, not caution, but something closer to a declaration of war.

"What does that mean?" Jhonatan asked carefully.

Glenmorrin turned to look at him, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the car.

"It means tomorrow, we stop being the ones hiding," Glenmorrin said. "And we find out exactly how much Castellan is willing to lose to get you back."

Before Jhonatan could respond, Reyna's voice crackled through from the front seat, tense and urgent.

"Glenmorrin. You need to see this."

She held up her phone, screen angled toward the back seat, and Jhonatan felt his stomach drop at what he saw displayed there—a photograph, clearly taken from a distance, of the two of them standing outside the clinic that very morning.

Beneath it, a single line of text glared up at them.

*I know about the child too. Return him within 48 hours, or I take them both.*