Chapter 2:The Break-In
1191 Words
Kate’s POV
Two hours had passed since the chaos at home. I had helped Rosalie calm down, tucked her onto the couch, and tried to make her feel safe again.
Rosalie was pale, trembling, and exhausted, and the tears didn’t stop. Her breathing was shallow, and I could see how weak she was.
I paced the room, back and forth, my mind spinning with fear and plans.
“Mom… I promise I’ll get the proof,” I said, my voice low but steady.
“I’m scared, Kate,” she whispered, her hands shaking as she held the blanket tight. “I don’t want to lose you… any of you.”
I knelt beside her and grabbed her hand. “No, Mom. I promise. I’ll be back as soon as I can… with the proof. I’ll fix this.”
Her eyes went wide, fear flashing in them.
“Where do you think you’ll find it… in that penthouse? Do you even know how dangerous that man is?”
“I don’t care,” I said firmly, my jaw tight. “We have to save John.”
The city outside was quiet. The streets were empty, dark, and wet from the earlier rain. I couldn't sleep. John’s life was in danger, and mom was sick. I had no choice. He was the only family I had left, since after Dad died.
I grabbed Rosalie's car keys from the table.
“I have to go now.”
“Kate…” Rosalie called out, voice breaking.
“I’ll be careful, Mom. I promise,” I whispered, trying not to hear the panic in her voice.
“Kate… come back!” she shouted again.
I didn’t answer. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat as I ran to the car. The engine roared to life. I drove fast, keeping my headlights low, following the shadows through the empty streets.
Minutes later, I arrived at the penthouse. The building was massive; glass walls reflecting city lights, steel doors, cameras on every corner. The penthouse was a fortress, a place built to keep people out… or trap them in.
My stomach twisted, but I had no choice. I had to get in. I parked a block away, heart hammering, trying to calm my shaking hands. The rain had started again, lightly.
I took a deep breath and studied the compound through the fence, its openings shaped like stars. Cameras scanned every corner. Steel doors gleamed cold in the dim light. Guards moved silently, watching every step. Every part of this place screamed danger.
Then I suddenly heard the gate creak open on its own. A sleek black car rolled out slowly. The gates were opened just wide enough for me to get through. Perfect timing.
As the car moved forward and past me, the gate started closing on its own. My heart raced. I jumped out of the car and ran as fast as I could. The metal bars scraped past my shoulders.
Just in time, I slipped through the closing gate. I was inside the penthouse compound. My chest was pounding, and my hands were shaking, but I had made it.
My stomach turned, fear gripping me, but I felt determination even stronger. I had to do this.
I stayed low, moving quietly through the compound. Every step felt loud in my ears, but some big beautiful trees helped me hide. My eyes scanned the ground and walls for cameras. I memorized the guards’ movements, slow, careful, and predictable.
I always had to wait for the right moment to move from time to time.
The building was massive, each corner shining cold under dim lights. The rain dripped from the edges of the roof, making little puddles on the ground.
I could hear my heart beating in my ears. I had never been inside a place like this before. Everything was so clean, so polished, and so… dangerous.
I spotted the stairwell to the second floor and crept toward it, sticking to the shadows. The doors were thick steel, but I found one slightly open near the side. My hand shook as I pushed it gently. It creaked, and I froze.
A shadow moved across the hall. I pressed myself against the wall until it passed.
Finally, I made it to the second floor. The halls were long and empty, polished floors reflecting my own shaky movements. I moved slowly, checking every door, listening for footsteps or the soft click of a guard’s boots.
The study was near the end of the hall. My stomach twisted as I approached. I had no idea what I would find, or if it would even be here. My hands were sweating, and I wiped them on my jacket.
I tried the handle. It opened slightly. My chest sank. I looked around, making sure no one was watching. Slowly, I pushed the door wider and slipped quietly into the study.
The room smelled of polished wood and leather. It was very quiet, except for the faint click of a distant security camera turning.
I closed the door behind me, trying to make no sound. The desk was huge, papers stacked neatly, screens glowing softly. My eyes scanned every drawer.
Finally, my fingers found a small box hidden at the back of the shelf. I opened it slowly, holding my breath. Inside was the flash drive, just like the message had described. Tiny red markings carved into it. My hands shook so badly I almost dropped it.
This is real… but who sent me that message? How did they even know? Fear stabbed at my chest. Could this be a trap?
But I shoved the fear aside and focused on what I had to do.
I held it tight. My heart soared. This was it, proof, evidence that John was innocent.
I had to get out. Fast. My stomach tightened as I thought about the guards, the cameras, and how I would pass the gate.
I hid the flash drive in my jacket pocket and began retracing my steps. I moved slowly, listening to every sound, the hum of the lights, the creak of the floor, and my own breathing.
I reached the top of the stairwell and paused. Everything was silent, I was almost safe, then… steps.
Slow, heavy, deliberate. Someone was coming up the stairs. My chest froze.
I silently hurried back into the study room, shut the door slowly, and carefully. I hid behind a tall filing cabinet, pressing myself against the shadows.
The steps got closer… louder… closer. And then the study door burst open.
I pressed myself flat, barely breathing.
A tall man appeared, his face hidden under a black hood. He carried a huge gun, a Desert Eagle. Its metals were gleaming under the soft light.
He scanned the room slowly, carefully, as if he already knew I was here.
My heart hammered as my fingers dug into the cabinet. Sweat burned my palms but I remained still.
He moved closer with his gun raised. Every step felt like a drumbeat of death.
I had nowhere to run.
And then…
- Writer
