Whispers in the storm

The dense forest provided cover, but every sound—a snapping twig, the distant rustle of leaves—set Eleanor on edge. Nathaniel led the way, his pace unrelenting despite his limp. His injuries from the earlier chase were taking their toll, but he refused to stop.

After what felt like hours, they stumbled upon an old, abandoned cabin nestled among the trees. Its roof sagged, and the windows were boarded up, but it offered a temporary sanctuary.

"We'll rest here," Nathaniel said, his voice strained.

Eleanor hesitated. "What if they track us here?"

He turned to her, his eyes dark with exhaustion. "If we don't stop now, we won't make it to the next hiding spot."

Reluctantly, she nodded, following him inside.

---

Inside the Cabin

The air was damp, the smell of rotting wood permeating the small space. Nathaniel barred the door with a broken chair and checked the few remaining windows for any weak points.

Eleanor lit a candle she found on a dusty shelf, its flickering light casting shadows across the room. She set the notebook on the table and sat down, her hands trembling.

Nathaniel sank into a chair across from her, wincing as he adjusted his position.

"Let me see," Eleanor said, gesturing to his leg.

"It's fine," he replied gruffly.

"It's not," she insisted, grabbing the first-aid kit she'd salvaged from their earlier escape. "You're no good to either of us if you can't walk."

He sighed but relented, rolling up his pant leg to reveal a deep gash. Eleanor winced at the sight but focused on cleaning and bandaging the wound.

"Thank you," he murmured after a moment.

She looked up at him, surprised by the softness in his voice. "For what?"

"For not giving up," he said. "Most people would have run by now—or handed me over to save themselves."

Eleanor shook her head. "I couldn't live with myself if I did that. Besides, I think I'd be dead without you."

A faint smile tugged at his lips, but it faded quickly. "We're not out of this yet."

---

The Turning Point

As they rested, Eleanor flipped through the notebook again, scanning the coded entries. One phrase caught her attention—a reference to "Project Athena."

"What's this?" she asked, pointing to the entry.

Nathaniel leaned over, his brow furrowing as he read. "I've heard whispers about Athena. It's not just about laundering money or bribery. It's… something bigger."

"Bigger how?"

He hesitated, his expression troubled. "I think it's a contingency plan. Something they're planning to use if their operations are ever exposed."

Eleanor's stomach churned. "A plan to silence people like us?"

"Or worse," Nathaniel said grimly. "We need to figure out what it is—and stop it."

Their conversation was cut short by the distant sound of dogs barking.

"They've found us," Nathaniel said, rising to his feet.

Eleanor grabbed the notebook and stuffed it into her jacket. "What do we do?"

"We keep moving," he said, heading for the back door. "And we don't let them catch us."