Whispers in the storm

The door rattled as someone tried the handle. Nathaniel and Eleanor exchanged a look, their breaths shallow.

"We know you're in there!" a voice shouted. "Come out, and we might let you live."

Nathaniel pulled a small handgun from his jacket, his jaw set. "Stay behind me."

Eleanor's heart raced as the door burst open, revealing three armed guards. Nathaniel fired a warning shot, the sound deafening in the enclosed space.

The guards hesitated, but one of them raised his weapon. Before he could fire, Eleanor grabbed a heavy paperweight from the desk and hurled it at him, the impact throwing off his aim.

"Go!" Nathaniel shouted, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward a side door.

They sprinted down a narrow hallway, the guards close behind. The sound of gunfire echoed around them, bullets ricocheting off the walls.

Eleanor clutched the notebook tightly, her lungs burning as they burst out into the night.

Nathaniel led Eleanor through the maze of the estate, his intimate knowledge of the layout their only saving grace. They dodged searchlights and evaded patrols, the rain masking their movements.

When they reached the perimeter wall, Nathaniel boosted Eleanor up first. She climbed quickly, her hands slipping on the wet rope. Once she was over, she held the rope steady for him.

They dropped to the ground on the other side, panting and soaked. Behind them, the estate buzzed with activity, the guards searching frantically.

Nathaniel grabbed Eleanor's hand. "We're not safe yet. Keep moving."

They disappeared into the woods, the notebook their only hope of exposing the truth. Despite the danger, Eleanor felt a flicker of hope. They had survived this far—

and they weren't giving up now.