Chapter 12 - Owen Gets Sick And Sebastian Finds Our Safehouse
Deep in the heart of the Catskills, our secluded cabin safehouse felt terribly cold despite the crackling wood stove. Little Owen tossed restlessly on the makeshift pallet bed, his tiny face flushed with a terrifyingly high fever.
I pressed a damp cloth against his forehead, fighting back hot tears of panic as he whimpered in his sleep. Maya was frantically searching through our medical bag for pediatric fever reducers, but we had run out hours ago.
Suddenly, the harsh crunch of gravel echoed outside the cabin porch as car tires spun in the frozen mud. Before Maya could grab the poker iron by the hearth, the heavy wooden cabin door swung wide open.
Sebastian stood framed in the doorway, breathless and wild-eyed, having tracked our burner phone signal through the mountains. “I found you,” he breathed out, rushing across the room the moment he saw sick little Owen in my arms.
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“Don't you dare touch him!” I cried out defensively, trying to back away toward the kitchen counter. Sebastian ignored my protests, dropping to his knees and pressing his hand against Owen’s burning forehead.
“His fever is dangerously high; we need to get him to a hospital in New York immediately,” Sebastian ordered decisively. Without waiting for my permission, he scooped Owen up in his arms and sprinted out toward his waiting helicopter.
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