Chapter 5 - The Trap at the Safehouse

The truck bounced violently down the dirt ruts of Old Mill Trail, scraping through overgrown pine branches until the old hunting cabin came into view. The cabin had belonged to Sarah’s uncle—a place Orson didn't officially own on paper.

I cut the engine, scooped Juniper into my arms, and kicked through the unlocked back door.

The air inside was stale and smelled of dry cedar. I set Juniper on the dust-covered sofa and immediately checked her spacer. "One more maintenance puff, June-bug. Open up."

She took it without complaining, her big brown eyes—so much like her mother's—staring at me with complete trust. "Are we hiding from Aunt Tabitha?"

"Just resting our legs," I lied gently.

I pulled out the burner phone and called Dr. Vance—Sarah’s cousin and one of the few honest physicians left in the county hospital system.

"Nathan," I whispered into the receiver. "I need an independent medical evaluation on Juniper's lungs and the inhaler residue. Tabitha was freezing her canisters."

"Austin, get out of there," Nathan’s voice was strained, breathless.

"What?"

"They tracked your phone's GPS before you ditched the truck," Nathan said in a panicked hush. "They didn't just send the sheriff. Tabitha hired private security from the city. They’re already—"

A shadow crossed the front window.

Before Nathan could finish his sentence, the heavy wooden front door blew inward with a deafening crack.

Two men in black tactical vests stormed through the dust. The first one had a taser drawn; the second carried zip-ties and a padded medical restraint kit.

"Step away from the child, Mr. Vance," the first man barked.

"Run to the bathroom, Juniper! Lock the bolt!" I screamed, grabbing an iron fireplace poker from the hearth.

The guard fired his taser.

The twin prongs shot toward my chest, but I swung the heavy iron rod, swatting the wires out of the air with a shower of sparks. I closed the distance before he could reload, driving the blunt iron end straight into his solar plexus. The man collapsed with a hollow groan.

The second guard tackled me around the waist, slamming my back into the pine coffee table. Wood splintered everywhere. His forearm crushed against my windpipe.

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Tabitha stepped over the broken threshold, holding a fresh legal document in one hand and a black aerosol canister in the other.