(Angel's

POV)noveldrama

My heart pounded as we huddled together in the dimly lit storage room. This was it. Months of planning, days of tension, and countless sleepless nights had all led to this moment. Our escape. Thomas knelt on the floor and was spreading out a rough sketch of the center's layout he had pieced together from his undercover work. His voice was steady but low as he outlined the plan one last time. "We're heading west," he said, tracing a line with his finger. "The West Wing is our best shot. It's less guarded because it connects to the storage units and not the patient quarters."

"What about the inspection teams?" Hande asked worriedly. "Won't they be patrolling everywhere today?"

Thomas nodded. "That's why we're timing this with the staff's scheduled rotation. The guards will be focused on escorting Dr. Aurora and her team around the facility. It's our only window."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "And if they spot us?"

Hendrix, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, spoke for the first time. "We keep moving. No stopping, no hesitating." His voice was sharp, almost cold, but I could see the fire in his eyes. He wasn't just talking about survival. He was talking about rebellion.

•

We slipped into the hallways like shadows, keeping our footsteps soft and almost inaudible against the polished linoleum floors. Thomas led the way with a raised hand as a silent signal whenever we needed to pause or change direction. The tension was suffocating as every distant voice or creak of the building made my pulse spike.

"Here," Thomas whispered after stopping at a junction. He pointed toward a set of double doors marked Restricted Access - West Wing. "That's our entry point."

The problem was the two guards stationed in front of it.

Hendrix stepped forward, his jaw tight. "We need a distraction."

Eddie grinned. His usual playful demeanor was still there even in the midst of this otherwise serious situation. "I've got this." Before anyone could stop him, he grabbed a nearby mop bucket and knocked it over, sending a puddle of soapy water spilling across the floor.

"What the hell?" one of the guards muttered and stepped forward to assess the mess.

"Hey! Watch it!" Eddie called out and pretended to panic as he stumbled into the hallway. "Sorry, I-uh-I'm just cleaning up."

The guards exchanged annoyed glances, clearly unimpressed. But it was enough.

"Now," Thomas hissed, and we slipped past the distracted guards, then ducked through the double doors and into the West Wing.

•

The West Wing was eerily quiet, much more quiet than the bustling main corridors. Rows of storage rooms lined the walls, but their metal doors were locked tight.

"Which way?" I asked in a whisper.

Thomas checked his notes, frowning. "Straight ahead, then left. There's a maintenance shaft that leads to the exterior compound."

We moved quickly but cautiously; every creak of the floorboards under our feet made me flinch.

·

The first obstacle came in the form of a biometric scanner blocking the entrance to the maintenance shaft.

"Damn it," Hendrix muttered as he examined the device. "We need a staff member's fingerprint to get through."

"Or," Bundah said and stepped forward with a smirk, "we fake it."

He pulled a small plastic bag from his pocket, revealing a gel mold he had made earlier from a stolen staff badge. Pressing it against the scanner, he held his breath. Infact, we all did. The light blinked green, and the door clicked open.

"Not bad," Hendrix admitted grudgingly as we slipped through.

•

We were halfway down the maintenance corridor when the alarms started blaring.

"Shit!" Hande exclaimed, her eyes wide with panic.

"They must've found the guards," Thomas said. "We need to move faster."

But as we rounded the corner, a group of guards appeared at the far end of the hall with their flashlights glaring through the dim light.

"Back!" Hendrix barked and shoved us toward an adjacent door. "Go, now!"

The door led to a storage room filled with cleaning supplies and stacks of unused furniture. We crammed ourselves inside and held our breaths as the guards' footsteps grew louder. "They'll search everywhere," Thomas whispered. "We can't stay here."

•

Hendrix glanced around, his mind working quickly. His gaze landed on a vent near the ceiling. "Up there," he said, pointing. "We can crawl through and bypass them."

(Hendrix's POV)

The vent was narrow and suffocating, but it was our only shot. I climbed in first and led the way as the others followed one by one. The metal creaked beneath our weight, and I prayed it wouldn't give out. "Keep moving," I whispered, and my voice echoed in the confined space.

The air was thick with tension, and every breath we took was labored because of the dust around. I could hear Angel just behind me, breathing unevenly.

"Almost there," I murmured, more to myself than anyone else.

We got into another corridor, this one dark and unguarded. But as we dropped down one by one, the sound of approaching footsteps sent a chill down my spine.

"Go," I urged the others and motioned for them to run. "I'll hold them off."

"Hendrix, no!" Angel protested and grabbed my arm.

I shook her off. "Just go. I'll catch up."

•

The guards rounded the corner just as the others disappeared down the hall. I stood my ground with balled fists.

"What are you doing out here?" one of the guards demanded with his hand on his baton.

I didn't answer. Instead, I lunged at him and knocked the baton from his grip. The other guard shouted while reaching for his radio, but I tackled him before he could call for backup.

The fight was messy and chaotic. But I didn't care. All that mattered was buying the others enough time to reach the West Wing's exit.

•

Pain shot through my ribs as one of the guards landed a blow, but I fought back with everything I had. It wasn't until Thomas appeared, pulled me to my feet and shoved the guards aside, that I realized the others hadn't left me behind. "Come on," he said urgently. "We're not leaving without you."

I hesitated, my chest heaving. But as I looked at him, I saw something I hadn't before. He wasn't just some undercover operative with a hidden agenda. He was...reliable.

"Thanks," I muttered, and together we sprinted down the hall and rejoined the group just as the exit came into view.

•

We burst through the door, finally.

But it wasn't over yet. The West Wing was behind us, but the real challenge was still ahead.

In fact, we still needed to go back to get all the evidence we could get.

But now, we had to stay out of the guars' view.

As the alarms continued to blare, I turned to Angel with hardened determination..

"This isn't over," I said. "Not yet."

She nodded, having the same expression on her face. "We keep going."

And so we did.

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