Chapter 24
Rachel lay still in the dark, eyes locked on the ceiling. Sleep wasn’t coming.
The usual background hum of city life drifted through the open window, cars in the distance, laughter too loud from the bar down the block, but none of it reached her. Something felt off.
She sat up slowly. Tossed the blanket aside. Bare feet hit cold hardwood as she padded to the window and eased the curtain back just enough to see the street below.
Her breath stopped. Three men.
Two at the end of the block, one across the street under a broken streetlamp. All still. All silent. Too still to be drunk neighbors or wandering strangers.
She watched their stance, the weight distribution, how they tracked movement without actually moving. Trained. Alert. She backed away from the glass. They weren't watching the building, they were watching her.
Her phone vibrated on the nightstand. The sound cracked the silence. She jumped, heart slamming, hand darting for the screen.
Unknown Number.
Her stomach flipped. She opened it.
Unknown Number: Too late to back out now.
Her grip tightened. Cold sweat slicked her palms. She turned back toward the window just in time to catch one of the men touching his earpiece. The other adjusted his watch.
Rachel spun, adrenaline slamming through her. They were coming.
She grabbed her bag, still packed, still heavy with the drive, the files, the only thing tying this whole damn thing together. She moved fast and silent. Instinct carried her across the room.
She hit the window, popped the latch, pushed it up as far as it would go. The rush of night air cut sharp across her skin. Twelve feet down. Too far to drop, but not too far to jump sideways.
Her neighbor’s porch was just close enough. If she missed, she’d break something. If she stayed, she died.
A soft creak behind her. The front door. No time left.
Rachel climbed onto the windowsill, clutching the frame. Her pulse slammed in her throat. One deep breath, then she jumped.
Her foot hit the railing and the wood groaned. Splinters bit into her palms as she caught herself, barely. She dropped again, lower this time, landing hard but upright on the porch floor.
With one last controlled movement, she dropped to the ground, landing hard and silent. Her feet struck dirt, knees bending to absorb the fall. She ducked and slipped behind the overgrown hedge that bordered her neighbor’s walkway. She stilled. Pressed flat. Stayed small.
From her hiding spot, she had just enough of a sightline to her own apartment window. The glow inside flickered with movement. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Any second now, they’d realize she wasn’t there.
Three men. Armed. Moving with intention and clearly well trained.
The first swept a flashlight across the apartment, the beam carving long white slashes through the dark. Her body didn’t move. Her pulse roared too loud in her ears.
Inside, she heard it all. Boots on hardwood. Drawers yanked open. Furniture dragged and overturned.
They weren’t trying to scare her. They were searching. They knew what she had. Rachel’s stomach twisted. The footage. The photos. The proof. It was in the bag still strapped to her chest. Her only advantage was that they hadn’t found it, yet.
Inside the apartment, one of the men spoke, voice low and controlled. “It’s not here.”
Another grunt. “She’s got it on her.”
She clenched her jaw, pressing lower into the dirt. Grass scraped her skin. Every instinct screamed to run, but she wouldn’t make it far. Not if they split up. Not if they swept the perimeter next.
She fumbled for her phone. Hands shaking. Vision tunneling. Her thumb slid across the screen, fumbling through contacts until she landed on the only one that mattered.
Logan.
She didn’t check the time. Didn’t care if he was in a war zone or half-asleep in a barracks. She hit call. The screen lit up.
It rang once.
Twice.
Straight to voicemail. The beep hit her like a punch to the chest.
Her voice cracked as she whispered, “Logan… I don’t know if you’re back yet.” She swallowed hard. Tried to force air into lungs that barely worked. “I don’t even know if you’ll get this in time.” she said, quieter now. “There are men in my apartment. They were looking for something, Logan.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, chest rising and falling too fast. Flashlight beams continued to flicker through the blinds. “I got out through my window. I’m hiding outside now in the bushes, but I don’t know how long I have before they realize I’m gone.”
Rachel hesitated, gripping the phone tighter, her knuckles pale. She stared at the dark screen, the weight of her own voice still echoing in her ears.
Then she whispered the words that had been circling in her mind like a warning siren. “I uncovered something… something big. Corruption. Military officers. I, I can’t say more over the phone. I don’t know who’s listening.” Her throat tightened. “It’s bad, Logan. Really bad.”
She didn’t know if this would reach him. Didn’t know who might intercept it. Who might already be listening. “I don’t know who to trust. I don’t know if they’re watching you too. What if… what if someone close to you is involved?”
Her voice cracked. It wasn’t weakness. It was too much truth pressing through all at once. “You need to protect yourself. If anything were to happen to you, I…” She broke off.
A sharp rustling nearby made her flinch. Her body tensed, eyes straining through the hedge. Footsteps. Closer now.
Her heart hammered. She gripped the phone harder, forcing herself to breathe. She had to finish. “If you get this… just know that I—I wanted to hear your voice one more time.”
Another sound—harder. A footstep in the gravel. Rachel’s body coiled. She whispered, “I have to go. Stay safe, Logan.”
She ended the call. Silence dropped around her like a weighted shroud.
Her hand shook as she lowered the phone. She pressed herself deeper into the dirt, the smell of crushed leaves overwhelming. Forced herself motionless, every muscle rigid.
The night felt different now. Heavier. More alert. They were searching, and she was running out of time.
Rachel’s lungs dragged in one more breath, then she pushed up from the ground, slow and silent. She couldn’t stay hidden forever.
She scanned the hedges, the walkway, the stairwells. The breezeway gate was too far. The laundry room light had shut off. No cover left. Her fingers curled around the strap of her bag, and she moved.
Crawling fast and low along the edge of the shrubs, then sprinting across the narrow stretch of exposed lawn between buildings. Her feet hit pavement quietly, almost silent. Muscle memory from Kabul kicked in. Her body knew what to do.
A shout behind her. Muffled, sharp. She ducked behind the maintenance box and pressed flat against the back wall. Her breath came too fast. A bead of sweat traced her spine.
The back gate was locked. No time to scale it. She turned instead, breath ragged, and ran the opposite direction, bare feet slapping concrete, silk nightgown clinging damp to her thighs. The corner hedge near the property line opened toward the street.
She ducked through it and sprinted barefoot across the asphalt, gravel biting into her heels. The soles of her feet burned. A broken beer bottle gleamed near the curb, she missed it by inches.
She dropped low behind a rusted SUV, panting, chest heaving. Her back pressed hard against the wheel well. The night was cooler here. Still. But her body wouldn’t stop shaking.
From here, she could see her building. Third window from the left. Her blinds were drawn, but the flicker of flashlights inside was unmistakable. They were still searching.
She stayed flat and silent, her body tucked small behind the vehicle. Her knees scraped, legs trembling from the run, the cold, the adrenaline.
Inside her apartment, one of the shadows passed close to the glass. Another tossed something. Her bookshelf, maybe. More movement. She watched, pulse thudding in her ears.
Ten minutes passed. Maybe fifteen. Every second felt longer than the last.
Then finally, movement at the front door.
Three men. One after another. No panic. No rush. They exited the apartment with the same calm they’d entered. Mission done. Bags empty.
Rachel didn’t move until they turned the corner and disappeared down the block.
Even then, she waited what felt like hours. She curled tighter into herself, pressed the phone against her chest. Logan's number still glowed on the screen. Unanswered.
She hadn’t said enough, yet she felt like she’d said too much. And even now, barefoot in the dark, the proof still strapped to her body, there was no going back.