Stuck with YOU || BECKFREEN/FREENBECK STORY

Chapter 56

"Author's POV"

The scaffold hit the ground with a rough metallic clang, jarring everyone on it. Rebecca stumbled but caught the railing with both hands, her breath shaky. Freen steadied her mother in her arms, the impact forcing Saroj's head against Freen's shoulder. Pain shot up her spine, but she didn't loosen her grip.

They had no time.
No time to breathe.
No time to panic.

Just move.

Rebecca rushed forward first, hopping off the scaffold platform onto the concrete pavement behind the hospital. The alley was dim, lit only by a flickering streetlight and the glow spilling from the hospital windows above.

Freen followed immediately, cradling her unconscious mother as she stepped onto the pavement. The cool air hit her face—a sharp, almost mocking contrast to the panic tearing into her chest.

"Babe," Rebecca gasped, grabbing Freen's arm the moment she reached solid ground, "we have to get out of here. They're coming."

Freen nodded, eyes steady despite the storm whirling inside her. "I know. Stay close."

They rushed down the narrow alley, their footsteps echoing softly against the walls. Freen wanted to run—God, she needed to run—but she had her mother in her arms. Rebecca noticed this and quickly moved to Freen's side, offering support.

"Let me help," Rebecca whispered.

Freen shook her head. "You help by watching our back."

And so Becky did—every few steps she turned, glancing behind them, eyes scanning for any sign of danger. Every shadow felt suspicious, every sound magnified. The men who broke into the room could be finding the stairwell now, could be sprinting through halls, could already be aiming for the exits.

They needed a way out.

They needed a car.

They needed time they didn't have.

As they reached the corner of the alley, Freen slowed down, her breathing uneven. She peered around the corner cautiously.

The hospital's back parking lot stretched out before them, rows of cars parked under dim streetlamps. A security booth sat near the back exit—empty.

Too empty.

"Where's the guard...?" Rebecca whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

"Gone," Freen answered. "Which means this place is compromised."

She scanned the area. Her car was at the front parking lot. They couldn't go there. The men chasing them would expect it.

"We can't use my car," Freen muttered, thinking fast. "We need another."

Rebecca swallowed hard. "We're stealing a car?"

"Borrowing," Freen corrected quickly. "And returning later."

Becky didn't argue.

Freen hurried forward, moving between cars, careful to keep to the shadows. Rebecca followed close behind, still glancing back, her chest tight with fear. Saroj remained unconscious in Freen's arms, her breathing shallow but steady.

They reached a silver sedan parked near the far right corner. Freen assessed it—old, simple, probably didn't have complicated security.

"This one," she whispered.

"How do we—"

She didn't finish, because Freen pulled a small emergency tool from her bag—one she kept for situations she never thought she'd actually face. She smashed the back window quickly and quietly, reached in, unlocked the door, and tossed the tool into the backseat.

Rebecca blinked. "When did you—?"

"Later, Becca. Get in."

Freen gently laid her mother across the backseat and climbed into the driver's side. Rebecca scrambled into the passenger seat, nearly slamming the door shut—but Freen caught it mid-air.

"No," Freen hissed. "Softly."

Rebecca nodded and reclosed it quietly.

Freen reached under the steering column, her hands swift and steady as she pulled down wires.

Rebecca stared. "Freen, what the hell—"

"My dad taught me this," Freen muttered grimly. "Not something I'm proud of."

Not proud at all.

She twisted two wires. The engine sputtered.
Twisted again.
The sedan roared to life.

Freen barely had time to shift into drive before—

SHOUTS.

Rebecca gasped. "They found us!"

Two figures sprinted out the back exit of the hospital, their silhouettes unmistakably familiar—fake security uniforms, weapons in hand.

Freen slammed her foot on the gas.

The car lurched forward, tires screeching against the concrete.

The men ran toward them.

One raised a radio.
The other raised something worse.

A gun.

Rebecca screamed. "FREEN!!"

But Freen already saw it.

Already reacted.

She jerked the steering wheel sharply, swerving the car behind a line of parked vehicles.

A gunshot rang out.

The bullet hit the rear window, shattering the already broken glass.

Rebecca ducked, hands over her head as shards sprayed everywhere.

Freen gritted her teeth, her knuckles white against the wheel.

Another shot.
This one hit a nearby car, setting off its alarm.

"We need to lose them," Freen growled, accelerating hard.

They shot forward, swerving between parked cars, making sharp turns until they burst out of the parking lot and onto a side road.

Rebecca looked back, heart hammering. "They're still behind us!"

Freen didn't answer. Her eyes were locked on the road ahead, her mind laser-focused. Her mother was unconscious. Rebecca was terrified. She couldn't afford to lose control. She had to get them out alive. No matter what.

She made a sudden right turn into a narrow street behind a row of abandoned warehouses. Rebecca almost hit the dashboard.

"Warn me next time!" she cried, clutching the seatbelt.

"Sorry," Freen muttered. "Hold tight."

She drove deeper into the industrial area, weaving through empty lots and deserted docks until the hospital was far behind them.

Finally—finally—she slowed down, checking the mirrors again and again.

No headlights.
No footsteps.
No shadows.

They were alone.

For now.

Rebecca exhaled shakily. "Freen... what's happening? Who are they? Why are they doing this?"

Freen didn't speak immediately.

She stared ahead, fingers trembling slightly as she held the wheel.

She had been running from her father for years—emotionally, mentally, sometimes physically. But escaping him was never simple.

And tonight proved that his reach hadn't faded.

It expanded.

Her voice cracked as she answered:

"...they're not after you."

Becky's eyes softened. "Then who—"

Freen's voice broke entirely.

"...they're after me."