Chapter 6 - The Streets of Brooklyn
The service elevator deposited them into the bowels of the building—a labyrinth of trash compactors, boiler rooms, and tunnels that led to the industrial side of the harbor.
Willa was exhausted. Her shoulder throbbed where she’d wrenched it on the ladder, and Brutus was panting, his massive frame shaking from the adrenaline. But they were out.
"We need to keep moving," she gasped.
They slipped through the loading docks, blending into the shadows of the containers. The city was a different beast at night—a chaotic, pulsing organism that didn't care if they lived or died.
Willa headed toward the waterfront. She knew a place—a small, abandoned boat repair shop where a friend of hers kept a stash of emergency supplies.
They arrived just as the rain reached a crescendo. Willa kicked the door in, the rusted lock shattering. Inside, the shop smelled of diesel and salt. She collapsed on the concrete floor, pulling Brutus close.
"We made it," she whispered, her voice cracking.
May you like
But as she looked out through the cracks in the walls, she saw them—black SUVs rolling slowly down the street, their high beams cutting through the rain like searchlights.
Kensington hadn't just let her go. He was hunting her.
