Chapter 6 - The River Crossing
The damp air of the underground drainage tunnel smelled of wet concrete and rust. My lungs burned with every breath, and my bare feet scraped against the rough stone floor, but I couldn't afford to slow down. Behind us, muffled by thick layers of earth and concrete, the concussive thud-thud-thud of suppressed gunfire echoed like a grim drumbeat.
"Mama, I'm scared," Mila whimpered, burying her face in my neck, her small fingers clutching my sweater so hard it cut into my skin.
"I've got you, baby," I whispered back, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to sound brave. "Keep moving, Leo. Look at my hand, honey. Just follow my voice."
Leo didn't cry. He kept his jaw set, his small strides matching mine in the dark, his amber eyes reflecting the faint, silvery beam of the penlight I held in my teeth. He was his father’s son—fearless, stubborn, and forged in ice.
After what felt like a lifetime of crawling through the labyrinth of stone and shadow, a sliver of pale gray light appeared ahead. The tunnel opened directly into the brush-covered embankment of the Gray Hollow river.
The rushing water churned darkly under the overcast afternoon sky. Moored against a rusted wooden piling was a sleek, black Zodiac motorboat. Standing beside it, rifle in hand, was a burly man in a tactical vest—one of Marco’s elite guards.
"Mrs. Bellini!" the guard hissed, rushing forward to help me pull Leo up the muddy bank. "Get in. Quick. We've got incoming!"
Across the river, on the opposite ridge, a convoy of matte-black SUVs had crested the hill, their high-beam headlights slicing through the mist like searchlights. Figures in tactical gear were pouring out of the vehicles, setting up perimeter positions.
"Where is Marco?" I demanded, shoving the twins onto the floor of the boat and shielding them with my body.
"Mr. Bellini stayed behind to secure the exit route," the guard shouted over the roar of the boat’s engine as he yanked the starter cord. "He said our orders were to get you across the state line to the safehouse in Ohio. Hold on!"
The Zodiac leaped forward, cutting through the freezing river water with bone-jartering speed. Spray lashed across my face, stinging my eyes, but I kept my gaze locked on the ridge behind us.
Clack-clack-clack.
The sharp, staccato chatter of assault rifles echoed from the wooded shoreline. Bullets zipped through the air above us, chewing up the water into white foam.
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"Keep your heads down!" the guard roared, spinning the steering wheel hard to throw off their aim.
I wrapped my arms around Leo and Mila, pressing them deep into the floorboards of the boat as we rocketed across the dark water toward the safety of the opposite shore, leaving West Virginia—and the burning wreckage of my sanctuary—behind us.
