Chapter 11

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Sarah and John moved with deliberate slowness, their footsteps muffled and light.

They didn't want to alert anyone, not with the child's safety at stake.

Finally, they reached the door, the very one that held the child captive.

John gestured for Sarah to stay put.

"Wait here,"

he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Sarah nodded silently, her eyes fixed on the door.

"Okay,"

she mouthed back.

John crept closer, his hand reaching for the doorknob.
He tried to turn it, but it wouldn't budge.

"Damn it,"

he muttered under his breath, frustration lacing his voice.

Turning back to Sarah, he shook his head, a silent communication of their predicament.

"It's locked..."

he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

"Hey you!"

The shout ripped through the silence, sending a jolt of adrenaline through John.

His heart hammered in his chest, his exposed position suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable.

His eyes widened, silently pleading with Sarah to take cover.

He could feel the heat of panic rising in his throat, his breath catching in his chest.

Sarah, quick as a flash, understood the unspoken urgency in his gaze.

Without a word, she darted towards the bathroom door, slipping inside and pulling it shut behind her.

The sound of the latch clicking into place was a small victory in the growing tension.

She pressed her back against the cool tile, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

The world outside seemed to shrink, the only sound the frantic pounding of her own heart.

Sarah pressed her ear against the bathroom door, her heart pounding in her chest.

She could hear her husband, John, talking in hushed tones with another man, their voices muffled by the closed door.

She strained to make out the words, her mind racing with a sense of dread.

"John, the boss wants you to go in his private room,"

the other man said, his voice a low rumble.

"Wait, really? Why?"

John's voice, usually warm and reassuring, was laced with a nervous edge.

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