At the ground level, I pushed open a heavy metal door marked with a red exit sign.

Cold rain hit my face immediately, shocking my lungs.

I was in a narrow gravel alleyway behind the private clinic, surrounded by tall brick walls.

A black SUV was idling near the street corner, its headlights cutting through the wet mist.

I shrank into the shadows, pressing my back against the damp brick.

The security guards would check the main parking lot first.

I turned the opposite way, running toward a gap in the wooden fence that led to a residential side street.

My feet splashed through deep puddles, soaking my socks inside my shoes.

I didn’t stop running until I reached my rented sedan, parked three blocks away under a flickering streetlight.

My hands shook so violently I dropped the keys twice on the wet asphalt.

I scrambled to pick them up, unlocked the door, and threw myself into the driver’s seat.

I locked the doors immediately and sat in the darkness, breathing heavily.

The street remained quiet, the rain drumming a steady, heavy beat on the car roof.