Chapter 9
The front door splintered inward with a deafening crash as the heavy oak frame gave way under a coordinated kick. Clara was already moving, darting through the back kitchen door just as heavy boots hit the hardwood floors of the hallway. She scrambled out into the overgrown garden, the cold autumn wind whipping her red hair across her face. Behind her, a sharp shout rang out as the operatives spotted her escaping figure. She vaulted over a low wooden fence, scraping her hands against the weathered pickets, and sprinted down the narrow alleyway separating the suburban houses. The rain had started up again, turning the unpaved paths into slick mud that sucked at her heels. Footsteps pounded aggressively behind her, closing the distance with terrifying speed. Clara ducked behind a row of overflowing industrial trash bins, gasping for breath, trying to silence the loud wheezing in her chest. A flashlight beam swept across the wet pavement inches from her boots, illuminating the dancing raindrops. The operative muttered a curse into his comm-link, his voice muffled by the downpour, and continued running down the wrong fork of the alley. Clara didn't hesitate. She pushed herself up from the mud and ran toward the municipal park at the edge of the neighborhood, where thick stands of oak trees and winding walking trails offered a labyrinth of natural cover. Her lungs burned with every breath, but her determination remained unbreakable. She reached the edge of the tree line, disappearing into the gray twilight just as a sleek black SUV pulled up to the end of the alley, its high beams cutting through the rain like searching swords.
