68 Echoes of a Forgotten Vow: The Surgeon, the Secret Child, and the Blood-Red Dawn

The heavy steel fire door slammed shut behind us with a pneumatic thud that echoed down the narrow, windowless laboratory corridor like a rolling clap of thunder.

My hand was trapped inside Nurse Brenda’s grip, her fingers squeezing so hard my bones ached, but I couldn't feel the pain. All I could feel was the icy echo of that gunshot ringing in my ears. It bounced off the bare concrete walls, vibrating through the soles of my sneakers and settling deep in the pit of my stomach.

Bang.

Just one single shot. But it sounded like an entire war had just broken out right outside Matthew’s office door.

"Keep moving, Sarah! Don't look back, just keep your feet moving!" Brenda urged, her voice cracking with terror as she practically dragged me down the sterile hallway. Her other arm was clamped tightly around my cardboard box, cradling Lily, Luna, and my plastic tea cups as if they were fragile glass.

We raced past rows of tall, humming refrigerators containing blood bags and experimental vials, past white laboratory coats hanging neatly on hooks, and toward the emergency exit sign glowing a sickly, radioactive green at the end of the passage.

My legs felt heavy, like they were made of wet cement. Every step required a conscious effort, and my breath came in ragged, wheezing gasps that burned my throat. I kept seeing Matthew’s face in my mind—the way his slate-gray eyes had softened when he kissed my forehead, the heavy, matte-black pistol gripped in his hand as he stepped out into the hallway to face men who killed without blinking.

“I’m not alone,” he had said.

“Don't leave us,” I wanted to scream back, but my voice had vanished, swallowed up by the rising panic inside my chest.

Suddenly, a loud, metallic clatter echoed from the ceiling above us.

Brenda froze so fast I crashed right into her legs. She stumbled, catching her balance against a steel workbench, and threw her head back to look upward.

The building's drop-ceiling tiles were shaking. Above the sound of our breathing, a heavy, rhythmic thudding came from the floor directly overhead—the sound of heavy combat boots sprinting at full speed along the corridor directly above the lab.

"They're taking the service bypass," Brenda whispered, her face draining of what little color it had left. "They're trying to cut us off before we reach the loading dock."

"Is my daddy okay?" I choked out, tears finally breaking free and flooding down my cheeks. "Did they hurt him?"

Brenda looked down at me, her eyes shining with unshed grief, but she didn't lie. She couldn't. "Your father is buying us time, Sarah. The only way we make it out of this building alive is if we use every single second he just bought us."