By the next morning, three black SUVs were waiting outside her window—because helping him made her a target.
Lena Brooks had driven a cab for eight years, but pregnancy changed everything. At seven months along, she should have been resting, yet medical bills didn’t pay themselves. So she kept working the late shift through the quiet stretches of rural Nevada, where rides were rare but paid well.
It was past midnight when she spotted him—a lone figure stumbling along the shoulder of Highway 95, waving weakly at her headlights. His clothes were torn, his jaw bruised, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Lena hesitated. Picking up hitchhikers was a rule she never broke. But the man collapsed to his knees as her cab rolled past.
Her instincts pulled her back. She hit the brakes.
When she stepped out, the desert wind bit at her face. “Sir? Are you okay?” she asked, one hand instinctively shielding her belly.
The man looked up, dazed. “Please… hospital,” he croaked.
His accent was American, his voice hoarse, but his eyes—sharp, gray, scanning the darkness behind him—showed something more than pain. Fear. Real, shaking fear.
Lena helped him into the back seat. As she began driving, he pressed a hand to his ribs, wincing. “Name’s Evan,” he whispered. “Thank you… you didn’t have to stop.”
“Don’t talk,” Lena said. “You need medical attention. What happened?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Then, quietly: “I wasn’t supposed to get away.”
A chill crawled up her spine. “From who?”
But Evan’s head slumped against the window, unconscious.
The hospital lights of Carson City came into view twenty minutes later. Doctors rushed him inside, asking Lena a blur of questions. She told them everything she knew—which wasn’t much. A nurse assured her she could go home; they’d contact her if needed.
Exhausted, Lena returned to her apartment, crashed into bed, and slept deeper than she had in days.
When morning sunlight spilled across her small kitchen table, she shuffled to the window—then froze.
Three black SUVs were parked directly outside her building. Engines running. Tinted windows. Men in dark suits stood near the vehicles, scanning the street with earpieces and rigid posture.
Her heart kicked hard. She wasn’t imagining it.
One of them lifted a tablet, staring at a photo.
Her photo.
Another man glanced up toward her window, as if he sensed her watching.
Lena stepped back sharply, pulse racing, one hand bracing her stomach.
Whatever Evan had been running from—
—it had found her.
Lena locked her door, though she knew a deadbolt wouldn’t stop the kind of men who traveled in black SUVs. Her phone buzzed with a number she didn’t recognize. She let it ring. Seconds later, another call. Then another. Her nerves tightened until she finally answered.
A calm male voice spoke. “Ms. Brooks, this is Special Agent Daniel Reed with the Department of Homeland Security. We need to speak with you.”
Her throat tightened. “How did you get my number?”
“You’re associated with an individual we’ve been tracking. We simply want to ensure your safety.”
“By surrounding my building?” she snapped.
“To protect you,” he repeated.
A knock startled her. Heavy, precise, not the kind neighbors used.
Lena moved to the peephole. Three men in suits stood outside. The same SUVs glinted behind them.
“We know you’re there,” one called. “We only want to talk.”
Her pulse hammered, but something in their tone—controlled, not aggressive—gave her pause. She unlatched the door, opening it just a few inches.
“Where’s Evan?” Lena demanded.
“Alive,” said the man in front—early forties, crisp haircut, dark suit. “And in federal custody. We need your statement about last night.”
“You’re DHS?” she asked.
He nodded and held out a badge. “Agent Daniel Reed.”
Lena stepped aside reluctantly. They entered with military efficiency, scanning her apartment.
“Why are you here?” she pressed. “He said he ‘wasn’t supposed to get away.’ What does that mean?”
Reed took a seat, hands folded. “Evan Parker is a whistleblower. He escaped an unauthorized facility tied to a private defense contractor. They wanted him silenced because he attempted to expose internal criminal activity.”
Lena’s breath hitched. “Criminal activity? Like what?”
“Classified,” Reed replied. “But he was injured during escape. Your involvement appears accidental, but the people after him believe anyone who helped him might have information. Which puts you at risk.”
Lena instinctively touched her stomach. “I don’t know anything. I just drove him.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Reed said gently. “To get ahead of whoever hurt him.”
Another agent stepped forward. “We’d like to relocate you temporarily until the situation stabilizes.”
“Relocate?” Lena repeated. “I have a job. A life. I’m pregnant.”
“We’re aware,” Reed said. “But the individuals pursuing Mr. Parker are highly motivated and extremely well-funded.”
Fear tightened around Lena’s ribs. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“No one ever does,” Reed answered.
A moment of silence stretched before he added, “We need you to identify whether Evan said anything specific—names, locations, threats.”
Lena shook her head. “He barely spoke.”
Reed exchanged a glance with his colleagues. “Then we must assume you’re a target simply because you saw him.”
Outside, another SUV rolled to a stop.
Reed checked his radio, face hardening. “We need to move. Now.”
Lena felt her world constrict, her apartment shrinking around her. “Am I in danger?”
“Ms. Brooks,” Reed said firmly, “someone else is looking for you. And they’re not the government.”
Her breath caught.
The nightmare had only begun.

Lena packed quickly—only essentials: a few clothes, prenatal vitamins, her insurance papers. Agents Reed and Collins escorted her down the stairwell, avoiding the open corridors. Outside, the morning air felt unnervingly still.
“Stay close,” Reed said.
They guided her toward one of their SUVs.
That’s when a second vehicle—a dark gray sedan—turned into the lot too fast. Its windows were tinted, its license plate partially taped. Reed reacted instantly.
“Go! Go!”
Collins shoved Lena behind him as the sedan screeched to a halt. Two men stepped out. Not federal agents. Their movements were too quick, too direct—trained but not official.
One called out, “We just want to talk to her!”
Reed drew his weapon. “Federal agents! Get back in the vehicle!”
The men froze, gauging the threat. Then one made the mistake of taking a step forward. Reed didn’t fire, but his voice sharpened like steel.
“Final warning.”
The men exchanged a look—then abandoned the approach, slipping back into the sedan and peeling away from the lot.
Lena’s knees weakened. “They were after me.”
Reed nodded grimly. “They’re contractors. Private. That means their orders aren’t bound by law.”
The agents ushered her into the SUV. As they sped down the highway, Reed monitored the rear window. “They’ll regroup. This isn’t over.”
“Why?” Lena whispered. “I’m no one.”
“You’re a witness,” Reed replied. “And they don’t know how much you heard.”
Lena pressed a hand to her stomach, fighting panic. “I can’t… I can’t do this. I have to keep my baby safe.”
Reed’s voice softened—not pity, but understanding. “That’s why we’re here.”
They drove to a secure DHS field office—a nondescript building outside Reno. Inside, fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, sterile and cold. Reed led her to an interview room.
“Evan wants to see you,” he said.
Lena blinked. “Why?”
“He believes you deserve the truth.”
After several minutes, Evan entered with a limp, escorted by medical staff. His face was pale but focused.
“Lena,” he said softly. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”
“Who are they?” she asked.
Evan sat heavily. “The people after me work for ArkenTech. I was a systems engineer. I discovered financial crimes—massive ones. Off-book contracts, black budgets, stolen federal funds. When I tried to report it, they detained me. Quietly. No records, no charges. Just… disappeared.”
Lena felt cold. “And you escaped.”
“With help from someone inside,” he said. “They paid with their life.”
Reed cleared his throat. “Which is why they want him back—or silenced.”
Evan gripped the table. “And they’ll go after anyone I touched during the escape. You included.”
Lena’s pulse raced. “So what happens to me now?”
Reed answered, “We can place you in protective custody. Full relocation until indictments are issued.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then ArkenTech will find you,” Reed said, not as a threat but as fact.
Silence filled the room.
Lena closed her eyes. She had never imagined her life brushing against anything like this. She was a cab driver. A soon-to-be mother. She wanted normal problems: bills, doctor visits, choosing a crib. Not federal protection.
But then she remembered the sedan, the men stepping out, the look in their eyes.
“I’ll do it,” she whispered.
Reed nodded. “We’ll keep you safe.”
Evan leaned forward, remorse carved deep into his expression. “Lena… I owe you my life. If I survive this, I’ll make it right. Somehow.”
She didn’t answer. She simply breathed—slowly, deliberately—hand resting on her belly.
Her life had changed in a single night on an empty highway.
And there was no going back.