Chapter 7 - The Ghost Tunnel

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The sub-basement was a labyrinth of steam pipes and electrical panels. I dragged myself across the wet concrete, leaning heavily against the cold brick walls.

At the far end of the corridor was a heavy iron door leading to the estate's old drainage tunnels, which emptied out near the coastal highway. It was my only way out.

My vision was blurring, the edges of the world turning a fuzzy, dark gray. I looked at my left hand. The three-carat diamond wedding ring caught the dim emergency lighting. It was a tracker. Adrien had insisted on it when we married, disguised as a security measure.

If I wore it, Victor and Simone would track me down and finish the job.

With a shaking, blood-soaked hand, I pulled the ring off my finger. The metal felt heavy, loaded with broken promises and lies. I dropped it onto a pile of discarded bloody rags I found near a maintenance sink, ensuring they would find it and assume the worst.

I pushed the iron door open and stumbled into the freezing night air.

The chaos from the mansion was deafening, lighting the night sky in hues of violent orange. I staggered through the thick brush until I reached the edge of the highway. Headlights cut through the darkness.

A battered delivery van slammed on its brakes, swerving to avoid hitting me.

The door flew open, and a terrified teenage driver stepped out.

"Oh my god, lady!" he screamed, seeing the sheer amount of blood on my dress.

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"Please," I gasped, clutching his jacket, leaving a bloody handprint on the denim. "Don't call an ambulance. They'll kill us both. Just drive. Get me to a clinic in the narrows. Please."

Before he could answer, my eyes rolled back, and I collapsed onto the freezing asphalt.