Neve slips into the room beside me. Pearl Necklace follows right behind her like she owns the place. She stands just behind me, casually adjusting the sleeve of her blazer as if she’s waiting for a martini and not helping me flee a death sentence.
They block the line of sight from the hallway, shielding me.
I hear a muffled thump from somewhere. Laughter. Voices. I don’t think they know the bag is gone yet. No one is yelling or running.
My fingers tremble as I push the rest of the chips onto the counter, my hands clammy, my throat dry.
The banker starts counting. It feels like it takesforever. “$805,000,” he says, as a machine spits out the money next to him.
Holy shit. That’s what I’ve won.
The man behind the glass slides over a nondescript envelope. It’s thick. Heavy. I grab it and tuck it inside the bag, zipping it up. My eyes flick to the door again. Still clear.
Neve leans in. “We have to move.”
I nod, stepping back.
Pearl Necklace smiles at me. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Neve and I clasp hands. We cut back across the kitchen, past two women setting out desserts. Pearl Necklace pushes us forward, opening a door that looks like a kitchen pantry. But it’s not. She shoves at the back panel of the wall, revealing ahidden stairwell. “Down here,” she says.
Neve nods. “Go.”
I don’t hesitate.
The stairwell is metal and smells like damp concrete and cigarettes. I descend quickly, feet clanging against the steps, my lungs burning now. Neve closes the wall behind us, muffling the noise from above. I hear voices through the floorboards. Someone is shouting.
We reach the bottom.
Another door.
Neve yanks it open.
We’re in a side alley now, outside. The air hits my face like a slap. Dark. Empty.
My feet move faster now. We round the corner of the building, boots skidding against gravel, and I hear it: the door above slams open.
Shouts.
“Run,” Neve says.
I take off. The pavement flashes beneath my feet, every breath a raw scrape in my throat as we tear into the street. A car honks. A group of drunk men yell. A taxi slams its brakes and the driver sticks his head out, shouting something I can’t hear because gunfire cracks behind us.
Sharp, fast, too close.
I scream, ducking instinctively, stumbling as Neve yanks me forward. “Keep moving!” she barks, her grip bruising around my wrist.
We sprint across an intersection. Tires screech. Someone swears. A man in a white suit stares as we bolt past him, the leather bag slamming into my side with every step.
Neve drags me down a narrow alley between enormous mansions, her boots skidding across their landscaping. I nearly lose my footing again, but she doesn’t let go.
The sounds behind us grow louder. Running footsteps.
Another gunshot.
A trash can explodes beside me.
“Go!” Neve screams, shoving me hard around a corner. The alley spits us out into a wide street lined with tall palm trees and dark gates. We sprint across someone’s lawn. A porch light flickers on.
