The Escape Artist Novels & Stories

Chapter 5 Cleo I love running it clears my head and gets me into focus mode. There are times when you need to figure out if you are running away from something or to something. If I want to avoid conflict and I don't want to hurt anyone; I find excuses to run , if I believe what we have is worth fighting for and that you are worth the fight; leap, fall ,or jump... I will find every possible reason to stay. I am able to exercise self control;given any situation I can way my options and react accordingly. I have never lost self control at work until Angelo happened.

It's a risky move, but he's determined to escape and continue his mission. With the appearance of a Lycan Guard, Eskaal begins to move cautiously through the dark corridors of the dungeon, his heart pounding with each step. His escape plan is in motion, and the fate of his pack and his quest for justice hang in the balance. Eskaal, now dressed as a Lycan Guard, moves stealthily through the dark and winding corridors of the dungeon. His senses remain on high alert as he inches closer to his escape. As he rounds a corner, his keen eyes catch a glimmer of metal. There, hanging from a hook on the wall near a heavy wooden door, are the keys to the cellar. It's a stroke of luck that could be a gam

Getting away from said dodgy situation, my stats speak for themselves. Evading capture is something you only get good at with practice, and while I didn’t know exactly how much time I’d spent on the run, I had to be close to my 10,000 hours. Admittedly, this situation, with an army of human-sized rats ready to limit my freedom in a range of unpleasant ways, wasn’t looking good. I wasn’t armed, didn’t have a clear escape route, and only had an incompetent assassin and a rebellious teenager to help me, which was no help at all.

The groan that escaped him then was less one of sleep and more of a primal, hungry growl, a sound that vibrated through the quiet room. As I became free, he rolled onto his back, one arm flung over his head, the invitation and the vulnerability of the pose completely unconscious. My freed arm screamed back to life with a thousand electric needles, but I ignored the agony. The escape route was clear. There was only one thing for it, only one way I was going to get out of here without the cheesy, morning-after conversation that my throbbing head and fragile ego simply could not handle right now. If he wanted a connection, I’d give him a distraction. A memorable exit, but not a conversational o

My gaze narrowed at her, as I tried to place my finger on what was going on in her head. “Why did I try to esc…. escape?” She said in between her fits of laughter. “Did you really expect me to stay under the same roof with you, a con artist, a liar? I don’t even know who you are…Who the heck are you? I am no guest of yours, I'm here as your plaything, your prisoner. You even went as far as locking me inside the room, and let me ask, don’t prisoners try to escape?” She asked, her laughter dying down as her tone turned serious.

Measured. The door is still wide open. I rise quickly, heart hammering. I don’t know if it’s Oliver or Isabella or someone else entirely—but I know I’m not ready for the truth. Not yet. So I do the only thing I can think of. I slip the original photo—the one with Isabella and the mystery man—into my back pocket, gather a few others quickly, and tuck them under my hoodie. Then I move to the door. And step out.

“He won’t like it if he found out you’re trying to escape. So, please, stay put and wait for him to come back.” “I’m tired of hearing those excuses! I don’t even know why I just woke up locked in a room, and everybody’s telling me not to leave, and that Alpha told me I’m his property and this is his territory and---” “Because that’s the truth, Miss.” She wanted to grab a handful of her hair! She was losing her mind. “Please, just let me go. You can’t get anything from me. I’m just a homeless lady, seeking freedom. I don’t want to be a slave of your pack. I don’t have any skills anyway. I’m useless.”

“Allow me to introduce the squad that will be breaking you out. Lincoln Young, the brains of our operation. He’s a genius, especially when it comes to strategies. Alexis Ziess, a sneaky son-of-a-bitch who specializes in pick-pocketing and hiding. Edward Zachery, stealth. He can hide himself in plain daylight and strike at any given moment. And then there’s me, Peter Driscoll, a dumb brute who can follow order and hold his own in a fight, no matter the weapon. We know how the rest of these inmates feel about being here. They want out as much as you and have been waiting for the opportunity you have provided us. “Ok so we have our following. Now how are we going to execute this escape?”

Their escape hung by a thread, the team's coordination and skill the only barrier between them and capture. The Emissary stumbled, his frail form struggling to keep pace. Eira's grip tightened. "We've got you," she whispered. Kael's sword sliced through the last guard, clearing their path. "Move!" Rylan yelled. They burst through the door, the facility's deadly traps and guards mere seconds behind. Their escape craft waited, engines roaring to life. As they lifted off, the facility erupted in a blaze of fire and smoke.

A newscaster stood in front of a high-security prison, her expression grim. “...Selene Westbrook, the billionaire heiress, and convicted felon, has successfully escaped from the maximum-security facility in a daring and highly coordinated operation. Authorities are urging the public to remain vigilant as the search for Selene intensifies.” My breath caught in my throat. "She escaped?" Elias ran a hand through his hair, pacing in front of the couch like a caged lion. "It was only a matter of time. I should have seen this coming." "You couldn't have known," I said, though even I struggled to believe my own words. Selene had always been one step ahead, cunning and ruthless in ways that made her