Faceless: The Whispers of the Canvas

Chapter 13: Cornered

The knock at the door, followed by Señora Elena’s hushed warning, sent a jolt of adrenaline surging through Sarah and Nick. The quiet refuge of their hotel room had instantly transformed into a trap. They were cornered, with limited options.

“We have to move,” Nick whispered, his eyes darting around the room, assessing their escape possibilities. The single window offered a precarious exit onto a narrow alleyway several stories below. It was a risky maneuver, but it was their best chance to avoid a direct confrontation within the hotel.

“Can you manage it?” Nick asked, his voice laced with concern as he looked at Sarah. He knew she wasn't fond of heights.

Sarah swallowed hard, her gaze flickering to the dizzying drop. A wave of nausea washed over her. But the fear of being caught was stronger than her fear of heights. She nodded, her jaw set with determination.

Nick quickly began working, tearing strips from the bedsheets and knotting them together to create a makeshift rope. He secured one end tightly around the heavy, old-fashioned radiator beneath the window, testing its strength with a sharp tug. “This should hold,” he said, his voice tense but reassuring. “I’ll go first. You follow right behind me.”

He carefully climbed out the window, pressing his body against the rough brick wall as he slowly and methodically descended the makeshift rope. Sarah watched him, her breath held captive in her chest, offering a silent prayer that the knots would hold.

Once Nick reached the alleyway below, he signaled to Sarah with a subtle wave of his hand. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she climbed onto the windowsill, her hands gripping the rough fabric of the bedsheets. The drop was even more terrifying from this vantage point, the ground seeming to recede into a distant blur. But she focused on Nick’s face, his steady gaze and encouraging nod giving her the courage she needed.

She began her descent, her muscles burning with the effort, her knuckles white as she clung to the makeshift rope. When her feet finally touched the rough cobblestones of the alleyway, Nick pulled her into his arms, holding her close for a moment.

“You were amazing,” he whispered, his voice filled with relief.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Sarah replied, her voice still trembling slightly.

They hurried through the narrow alleyway, emerging onto a quiet side street. They needed to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the hotel. As they walked, they noticed a dark sedan slowly cruising down the street, its headlights cutting through the deepening twilight. The car looked eerily familiar – it was the same dark sedan the elderly witness had described seeing fleeing the scene of Sofia’s accident.

“It’s them,” Nick murmured, instinctively pulling Sarah into the recessed doorway of a closed shop.

The sedan slowed to a stop a short distance away, and two men emerged, their faces grim and determined. They began systematically searching the street, their eyes scanning every doorway, every shadow.

Just as the men were about to reach their hiding place, a sudden commotion erupted further down the street. A group of teenagers on scooters, laughing and shouting, sped past, their noisy engines momentarily distracting the two men.

Seizing the opportunity, Nick pulled Sarah from the doorway and they slipped into the flow of pedestrians on the opposite side of the street, moving quickly and discreetly. They blended into the crowd, using the bustle of the evening to their advantage.

As they moved through the crowd, Nick noticed a small, unassuming door with a faded sign above it: "El Ateneo Librería." It was a bookstore, a sanctuary of words and knowledge. He quickly pulled Sarah inside.

The bookstore was quiet and dimly lit, filled with the comforting scent of old paper and leather bindings. It was a haven of peace amidst the chaos outside. As they stepped further inside, they saw a back door slightly ajar. Nick gently pushed it open, revealing a small, dimly lit back room filled with stacks of books and old furniture. It was clear that this was not a public area.

A figure emerged from the shadows. It was Señora Elena, the hotel owner. She looked at them with a mixture of concern and understanding. "I saw them searching," she whispered. "I thought you might need a place to hide."