Chapter 11: The Escape That Bleeds
Lila Harper's heart slammed against her ribs as the motel door rattled under a heavy fist, the voice outside barking, "Open up, Harper! You're coming with us!" The USB drive in her hand—loaded with proof of Richard Holt's crimes and secrets about her mom, Angela—felt like a live wire.
Ethan Kane stood beside her, his eyes locked on the door, while Claire Kane, Ethan's sister, grabbed her phone, her face tight with fury. At 28, pregnant, and framed for a break-in at Holt's office, Lila knew it wasn't just cops outside. Victor Russo's men, tied to Holt's mob-backed deals, were here to bury her, Ethan, and their unborn child. The motel room's flickering bulb buzzed, the air thick with panic.
"Get to the window," Ethan whispered, his voice low but urgent, shoving the ledger from Angela's storage unit into his jacket. "There's a fire escape."
Lila's hands shook, but she nodded, clutching the USB. Claire was already moving, yanking open the grimy window as the door splintered under another blow. "Move, now!" Claire hissed, her lawyer's poise gone, replaced by raw survival instinct.
Lila scrambled through the window, the fire escape's rusted metal creaking under her weight. Ethan followed, his hand steadying her as Claire climbed out last, slamming the window shut just as the door caved in. Shouts erupted inside—two men, heavy boots, cursing as they tore through the room. Lila's pulse raced as she descended the rickety ladder, rain slicking her grip, the city's neon glow a blur below.
"Down, go!" Ethan urged, his voice tight. A gunshot cracked above, and Lila ducked, her stomach lurching. Claire cursed, nearly slipping, but Ethan grabbed her arm, pulling her to the alley below.
They hit the ground running, splashing through puddles as the men's shouts echoed from the fire escape. Lila's sneakers pounded the asphalt, her breath ragged, the USB and her baby the only things keeping her moving. Ethan led them through a maze of alleys, the black SUV from the garage nowhere in sight, but Lila knew Russo's men wouldn't stop.
They ducked into a shuttered warehouse, its broken windows letting in slivers of streetlight. Lila leaned against a crate, gasping, her hand on her belly. "We can't keep running," she said, her voice shaking. "They'll find us."
Ethan's eyes were wild, his jacket torn. "We're not running forever. We get the USB to the board, expose Holt and Russo. End this."
Claire, catching her breath, shook her head. "You don't get it, Ethan. Russo's not just Holt's bank—he's a killer. I've got a tail on me, and now they know I'm with you. We're all targets."
Lila's phone buzzed, cutting through the tension. She pulled it out, her heart stopping at the caller ID: Angela Harper. Her mom, who'd dodged her questions about James Kane and her father, hadn't called in years. She answered, her voice low. "What do you want, Mom?"
Angela's voice was slurred but urgent. "Lila, listen. I saw the X posts. Holt's coming for you because of me. Your dad… he wasn't just some deadbeat. He worked with Russo, crossed him, and got killed for it. Holt's scared you'll find out who he was."
Lila's blood ran cold, her eyes meeting Ethan's. "Who was he, Mom? Tell me his name."
"Frankie Malone," Angela said, her voice breaking. "He was Russo's driver, knew too much. Holt helped Russo cover it up. That's why I ran deals for them—to keep you safe. But now you're digging, and they'll kill you like they killed him."
Lila's knees buckled, but Ethan caught her, his face grim. "Angela, where are you?" he asked, leaning into the phone.
"Doesn't matter," Angela said. "Get out of the city, Lila. Take the kid and run." The line went dead.
Lila's vision blurred, Frankie Malone's name burning in her mind. Her dad wasn't James Kane, but a man who'd died for crossing Russo. Holt's threats, the brick, the leaks—it was all to keep that secret buried.
"We can't run," Lila said, her voice hard despite the tears. "Holt and Russo framed my mom, killed my dad. I'm not letting them touch my kid."
Ethan's hand tightened on her shoulder. "We won't. But we need a plan. Claire, what's your next move?"
Claire's face was pale, her phone buzzing with a new text. "My contact at the precinct says the warrant's out—Lila's wanted for theft and vandalism at Holt's office. But I've got something else." She pulled a flash drive from her pocket. "This is from Dad's safe. It's got proof Holt doctored Angela's charges to pin Russo's scam on her. We combine it with your USB, we've got enough to take Holt down."
Lila's heart raced. "Then we go to the board. Now."
"Not yet," Claire said, her voice low. "My tail's still out there. I ditched them at the motel, but Russo's got eyes everywhere. We need to lay low until morning."
Ethan's phone buzzed—a new X post, trending like wildfire: a grainy video of Lila climbing the motel fire escape, captioned: Fugitive Lila Harper on the run. What's Kane hiding? The comments were brutal: She's guilty. Kane's covering for a criminal.
Lila's stomach churned. "Holt's turning the city against me. If the cops find me first…"
"They won't," Ethan said, his voice raw. "I'm not letting you go down for this. You're not alone, Lila. Not anymore."
His words hit hard, the first time she believed he might stay—for her, for their baby. But before she could respond, Claire's phone lit up with a call from an unknown number. She answered, her face draining of color.
"It's my contact," she whispered, putting it on speaker. A man's voice, low and panicked, came through: "Claire, get out now. Russo's guys hit my car. They know you've got the safe's files. They're coming for you."
The line cut out, and a loud crash echoed outside the warehouse—metal scraping, tires screeching. Lila's eyes darted to the broken windows, where headlights flashed, pinning them like prey. Russo's men had found them, and Claire's proof was a death sentence.