PHILIP SCOTT: THE LOST HEIR

A RACE AGAINST TIME

Philip and Clara moved quickly through the woods, the sound of their footsteps were heard by the snapping of the twigs. The early morning light filtered through the trees, casting long shadows around them. Philip’s heart pounded in his chest, a relentless rhythm of fear and determination.

“We need to keep moving,” Clara whispered urgently. “We can’t let them catch up to us.”

Philip nodded, his mind racing with thoughts of their pursuers. Greene’s men were closing in, and they had to stay ahead if they were going to survive. He adjusted the strap of his backpack and picked up the pace, following Clara’s lead through the forest.

After what felt like hours, they emerged into a small compound. Clara paused, scanning the area for any signs of danger. Satisfied that they were alone, she led Philip to a narrow trail that wound its way up a steep hill.

“This way,” she said, her voice was low but steady. “We’re almost there.”

They climbed the hill in silence, their breaths coming in short, sha