“They’re sweeping the perimeter!” a man shouted from the lawn.

A bright beam of a spotlight cut through the rain, searching the grass just yards behind our heels.

We dived into the thick undergrowth of the forest, the branches tearing at my hair and face.

The pine needles muffled our footsteps, but the mud made every step a slippery struggle.

Victor’s breath was a ragged, whistling gasp beside me.

“I can’t… keep this pace,” he muttered, stumbling hard against a thick pine trunk.

“You have to,” I said, catching him by the arm and dragging him upward.

“If Tony’s men find us, we’re both dead.”

“Why do you care?” he asked, looking at me with squinted, suspicious eyes.

“You’re a federal agent.”

“Right now, I’m the only thing keeping you alive,” I said.

We pushed deeper into the woods, the roar of the ocean growing louder ahead of us.

We reached the edge of the rocky cliffs overlooking the shipping canal.

Below us, the black water of the bay churned violently against the stone.

A concrete drainage pipe poured a steady stream of muddy runoff into the sea.