Page 40 of The One that Got Away

"We need to be careful of the basement," Oliver said, his voice steady despite the storm brewing within. "It's a maze down there."

Once the plan was laid bare on the kitchen table, they turned to the next phase—preparation. Their home became a command center; adrenaline-laced tension mixed with the scent of coffee that had long since gone cold.

Lisa opened a black duffel bag and revealed its contents: rope, flashlights, and a first-aid kit.

"These might come in handy," she murmured, her gaze never leaving the bag as if she could will it to contain all the answers they needed.

"Here," Oliver returned, setting down a hefty crowbar with a thud. "Just in case we need to make our own entrance."

"Or our own exit," Lisa added, a steely note in her voice.

They suited up in dark clothing and practical boots and equipped themselves with tools that felt foreign yet necessary. Lisa caught her reflection in the hallway mirror, hardly recognizing the woman staring back. A hardened resolve had replaced her warm smile, and her hair was pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail.

"Are we ready?" Oliver asked, meeting Lisa's gaze. His hand reached for hers, an anchor amidst the chaos.

"As we'll ever be," Lisa replied, squeezing his hand in return. She had called Maggie, who had come to take the children to her place, no questions asked. She thought of Daniel's laugh, the sound that had once filled the house and now left an aching void. They would bring him back. They had to.

"Let's bring my boy home," Oliver said, his voice cracking just slightly before he composed himself once again.

They were scared, yes, but beneath that fear lay something far stronger: love, the kind that could move mountains, cross oceans, and face down the darkest of foes. It was heartwarming and exciting, thrilling and suspenseful—the kind of love that could save life. And tonight, it would have to.

Moonlight draped the small town in a silver glow as Lisa and Oliver slipped out of the house, their shadows merging with the dark contours of the sleeping buildings. They moved with silent urgency, each step carefully placed to avoid loose gravel and creaky boards that might betray their presence. The night was still, save for the occasional hoot of an owl or the rustle of wind through the leaves.

The adrenaline coursing through Lisa's veins sharpened her senses, amplifying every sound and magnifying every movement. Oliver led them through alleys he knew by heart, past the old church, and down the forgotten paths where children once played but now lay deserted.

The building loomed ahead, a monolith of brick and broken windows that seemed to swallow the darkness whole. Lisa's intimate knowledge of its layout was their advantage.

As they neared the entrance, Lisa's hand instinctively went to the small canister clipped to her belt—the pepper spray felt cold against her palm, a reminder of the danger they were about to face. She glanced back at Oliver, finding a silent promise in his determined gaze and the gun at his side. They would do whatever it took.

She paused at the door, her other hand reaching out to touch the splintered wood, feeling for vibrations, signs of life within. Her intuition screamed that they were not alone, that eyes watched them even now from the shadows. With one last deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped into the abyss with Oliver right behind her, a duo of hearts beating against the silence of the night.

The door creaked on its hinges, an ominous sound that echoed through the stale air of the abandoned building. Lisa's heart was pounding hard in her chest as they made their entry, the darkness enveloping them like a cloak. She could feel Oliver's presence, a comforting solidity at her back.

They had barely taken two steps when the dim glow from a cracked overhead light revealed the first of their adversaries. The kidnappers, entrenched in the illusion of security, were jolted into alertness by the intrusion—a quartet of burly silhouettes rising from a dilapidated card table littered with empty beer cans and dog-eared playing cards.

"Who the hell?" one of the figures began, but the duo's swift action cut short the sentence.

Lisa's instincts kicked in; she darted forward, pepper spray in hand, unleashing a fiery stream into the eyes of the nearest man. He howled in agony, clutching his face as he stumbled back, knocking over a chair in his blind panic.

Oliver was a flurry of movement beside her. His past on the ocean had honed his reflexes, and with the grace of a seasoned fisherman battling the sea, he swung a heavy flashlight like a club, connecting with a thug's wrist. The sound of cracking bone was drowned out by the man's cry of pain as his weapon clattered to the floor.

The room erupted into chaos. A table overturned, spilling paraphernalia across the grimy floor. Shouts and curses filled the space as the kidnappers scrambled to regroup, their plans upended by the ferocity of the unexpected attack.

Lisa ducked a wild swing from one of the men, her body moving with a dancer's rhythm learned from years of protecting herself and her children. With precision, she drove her knee into his gut, using his moment of weakness to snatch the handgun from his grasp and toss it out of reach.

"Daniel!" she called out amidst the bedlam, her voice both a battle cry and a beacon of hope. “Ava?”

Through the melee, Lisa's gaze locked onto a door at the far end of the room. It was slightly ajar, a sliver of light escaping from within, beckoning them with the promise of finding Daniel and Ava.

Adrenaline surged through her veins as she fought her way toward it, Oliver right behind her, a seamless unit of determination and grit. They moved together, their bond strengthened by the peril that united them.

In that charged moment, as fist met flesh and courage stood tall against fear, Lisa knew that they were not just fighting for Ava and Daniel's freedom—they were fighting for their lives, their town, and the very essence of family that bound them all together. Oliver pulled his gun, which made them back off, at least for a bit.

The door groaned on its hinges as Lisa shouldered it open, her breaths shallow but determined. The room beyond was a stark contrast to the chaos they had left behind—a quiet chamber illuminated by a single bulb that swayed gently in some unfelt breeze. There, in the corner, Daniel huddled against the wall, his tiny frame curled into a ball of fear.

"Mommy?" His voice was a soft whimper, barely audible over the pounding of Lisa's heart.

She turned and saw Ava. She was tied up, her head slumped against her chest. She wasn’t asleep. She was unconscious. Lisa ran to her and lifted her head, touching blood on the side of her hair. Lots of blood. Seeing this, she looked up at Oliver. “We need to get her to the hospital quickly.”

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