Page 6 of Baby For the Mosaic Med Chief

Chapter Three

A SHRILL BEEPING JARRED Quillin from sleep. He jolted upright, momentarily disoriented. The insistent beeping continued, accompanied by heavy pounding on the front door.

Adrenaline flooded his system as realization struck—they’d been found. The enforcement squad must have tracked them here. Quillin leapt from the bed, his heart hammering.

“Briana, get up.” He rushed to her side. She grumbled in protest as he shook her shoulder urgently. “We have to move now.”

The pounding at the door grew louder, angry shouts accompanying each thunderous boom. Her eyes flew open, confusion clouding her face. Then understanding dawned, and her eyes went wide with fear.

He grasped her hand, hauling her from the tangled sheets. The door wouldn’t hold long against the squad’s barrage. Their only hope was the rear exit.

He pulled Briana along as he swiftly tapped the control panel, lowering the ramp. It descended agonizingly slowly. He shifted from foot to foot, acutely aware of each second ticking by. Finally, it locked into place.

They hurried down the ramp just as the front door splintered open behind them. Shouts rang out from within the POD. He didn’t look back, focused wholly on escape, but the enclosure around the POD limited their options. There was nowhere to run but open ground.

Then a yell came from their left. The squad had anticipated their route and moved to cut them off. He cursed under his breath. Their only option was to run and make it to the treeline.

“Stay close,” he shouted. She nodded, face ashen but determined. He tightened his grip on her hand. “Now.”

They took off sprinting. The ground blurred under their pounding feet. His lungs burned, but he pushed harder. Blaster bolts sizzled past them, scorching the earth. Briana’s harsh breaths echoed his own.

The forest loomed ahead, tantalizingly close. Just a bit farther. Quillin risked a glance back. Half a dozen enforcers pursued them, closing in. He turned forward and summoned every last ounce of strength.

Her cry of pain pierced his heart. Her hand wrenched from his grasp as she stumbled and fell. “No.” He skidded to a halt, panic surging through him. He whirled back and saw Briana clutching her leg, face contorted in agony.

Quillin scooped her up in one smooth motion. Her arms locked around his neck, holding on for dear life. Then he was running again, crashing into the forest just as a blaster bolt sizzled past them.

He wove between the trees, putting distance between them and their pursuers. Briana trembled against his chest, her ragged breaths hot on his skin. Rage and fear warred within him, but one thought rose above all—he had to save her.

When they pushed through the trees, he found himself in a neighborhood he didn’t recognize, but that didn’t surprise him. He rarely left the Embassy. This particular area was rundown and seemed unsafe, but he pushed through.

His lungs burned as he sprinted through the grimy alleys, one thought driving him onward. He must get Briana help. Her pained breaths and white-knuckled grip on his shirt fueled his desperation.

He scanned the dilapidated buildings, looking for somewhere to hunker down. There—a crumbling hotel. He mounted the creaking steps and shouldered through the front door.

The greasy manager jerked upright, face purpling. “Hey. You can’t just barge in here—”

He cut him off with a snarl. “Which room?”

The manager spluttered indignantly, but Quillin silenced him with a glare. Sweat beaded on the manager’s forehead as he pointed a trembling hand at the farthest door.

He stalked down the hallway and kicked open the door. Gently laying Briana on the stained mattress, he assessed her leg. The wound continued oozing blood. He needed medicine and fast.

“I’ll be back soon. Stay awake,” he ordered. Briana nodded weakly, face gray.

He hurried from the hotel, his focus singular—to find medical supplies. The seedy district’s back alleys formed a maze, but he let his superior sense of smell guide him until the scent of antiseptics indicated a black-market dealer, since there was certainly no functioning medical center around.

He approached warily.

The wiry man eyed his Mosaic features with unveiled disgust. “We don’t serve your kind here.”

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