The motorized wheelchair moved before anyone in the grand reception hall understood what was happening.

The heavy oak and glass doors exploded open as Wren rammed the wheelchair through, bursting out into the cool, rain-slicked night air.

The Sterling estate was a sprawling forty-acre fortress perched high on the cliffs overlooking the river, surrounded by ten-foot stone walls and state-of-the-art security systems. White garden lights illuminated the manicured lawns, making them look like open targets.

"Where are we going?!" Leo shouted over the rushing wind, his hands clutching the armrests of his chair as Wren pushed him down the steep, stone-paved driveway.

"Away from the roads!" Wren yelled back, her bare feet smacking against the cold, wet asphalt without a flinch. "They have cars! We won't make it to the main gate!"

Behind them, the high-pitched wail of security alarms began to echo across the estate. Flashlights cut through the darkness near the grand entrance as half a dozen armed guards poured out onto the lawn, led by Julian's personal chief of security, a scarred man named Vance.

"Head for the old greenhouse!" Leo called out, pointing toward a dark, dilapidated structure near the eastern woods. "There's an old servant's gate behind it! The lock has been broken for years!"

Wren veered left, muscle and adrenaline driving her forward. Pushing a heavy motorized wheelchair across wet grass was exhausting, but she didn't slow down. Her chest burned, her lungs cried for air, but the memory of Clara Sterling's bloodied face in that hidden basement three days ago pushed her past her limits.

“Save my son, Wren,” Clara had begged her. “They are poisoning his medicine. They are making him weak so he can’t fight back.”

They reached the shadow of the overgrown glass greenhouse just as a black security SUV roared down the main driveway, its searchlights sweeping across the open lawn.

"In here!" Wren whispered, ducking behind a crumbling stone wall.

She carefully guided the wheelchair through the broken glass doors of the old greenhouse. Inside, the air was warm, smelling of damp soil, moss, and rusted iron.

Leo was breathing heavily, his small frame shivering in his thin navy suit. He looked at Wren, taking in her bruised arms and the faint scar across her collarbone.

"Who are you really?" Leo asked softly, his voice trembling slightly. "How do you know my mom?"

Wren wiped a mixture of rain and sweat from her forehead. "My name is Wren. I live in the lower district—the ruins near the old docks. Three days ago, I was breaking into an abandoned clinic near the harbor to steal medical supplies for my little brother."

She looked straight into his eyes. "I found your mother tied to a bed in the basement. She was being kept sedated by Julian's men. She managed to slip me that locket while I was hiding from the guards."

Leo’s eyes welled with hot tears. "She's... she's really alive? He didn't kill her?"

"Not yet," Wren said grimly. "Because she refused to give him the master key code to your family's offshore accounts. But tonight, once Julian gets your signature on those trust papers, he doesn't need her alive anymore. And he won't need you either."