Chapter 77 - The Prison Break Protocol
Meanwhile, inside the Cook County Women's Correctional Facility, the shadows were growing longer.
It was 11:00 PM. The cellblock was silent except for the distant echoes of dripping water and metallic footsteps. I lay on my cot, awake, listening to every sound.
Suddenly, the electronic lock on my cell door chimed. CLICK.
The heavy steel door slid open two inches. A female guard I hadn't seen before stood in the corridor, her facial expression blank, her hand resting on a heavy stun baton.
"Inmate Vance, get up," she commanded in a flat tone. "Special transfer order. You're being moved to the maximum-security wing in Rockford."
My internal alarm bells screamed. "Transfers don't happen at midnight without my legal counsel present."
"You don't make the rules here, Chairwoman," the guard sneered, pulling out a pair of heavy iron leg shackles. "Step out, or I use force."
I stood up slowly, keeping my center of gravity low. As she stepped into the narrow cell to grab my arm, I noticed a distinct tattoo on her inner wrist—a coiled viper, the exact emblem of Harrison Cross's private mercenary group.
This wasn't a transfer. It was an execution.
Before she could raise her stun baton, I used every ounce of self-defense training Ethan had taught me over the years. I grabbed her wrist, twisted it violently outward, and slammed her elbow into the concrete wall. The baton clattered to the floor!
The guard gasped, reaching for her sidearm, but I kicked her knees out from under her, sending her crashing onto the floor. I grabbed her master keycard, burst out of the cell, and slammed the heavy iron door shut, locking her inside!
Sirens blared instantly throughout the facility! WOO-WOO-WOO!
Red emergency strobes bathed the concrete corridors in blood-red light. I ran toward the service exit, my lungs burning, heart hammering against my ribs.
I burst through the rear laundry exit into the freezing Chicago rain—only to find three armed mercenaries waiting near a black delivery van, weapons raised!
"Freeze, Chairwoman!" one shouted.
Suddenly, a heavy black Ford F-150 smashed through the chain-link perimeter fence at sixty miles per hour! The truck skidded across the wet pavement, slamming into the mercenaries' van and throwing them off balance!
The passenger door swung open. Ethan leaned out over the door, extending his arm toward me, his blue eyes roaring with fierce devotion.
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"GET IN!" Ethan shouted over the roar of the engine.
I sprinted through the rain, leaped onto the running board, and grabbed his hand. Ethan pulled me inside the cab in one smooth motion, slamming the door shut as Marcus floored the accelerator, tearing out into the rainy Chicago night!
