Holy shit. Did she just…?
I wait a beat, then creep to the door. My hand hovers over the knob.
I glance up at the camera, my heart pounding. They’ll see me, no doubt about it. But screw it. I’ve got one shot at this.
I take a deep breath, wrap my hand around the doorknob, and twist. It turns. No resistance.
Holy shit.
thirty-six
Clara
The hallway stretches before me.
Empty. Silent.
Too silent.
I creep forward, bare feet sticking to the cold floor. My heart’s pounding so hard I swear it’ll burst out of my chest any second.
Another door looms ahead. Leonid’s room.
My fists clench and unclench, itching to tear Leonid’s throat out, but my guts are flipping like a row of dominos. Is this opportunity falling into my lap a stroke of luck, or am I waltzing right into another trap?
I grit my teeth and clench my jaw, trying to drown out the warning bells in my head.
Focus, Clara. One step at a time.
I inch past Leonid’s door, holding my breath. The dress clings to me like a second skin, making every movement feel restricted. Sweat trickles down my back.
At the end of the hall, I spot the elevator. Next to it, a door marked “Stairs.”
My eyes dart between them.
With a choice to make and no time to spare, I size up the options. Elevator’s faster, but a giant “Come Murder Me” sign. Stairs are safer but slower than a snail in quicksand.
Fuck it. Stairs it is.
I ease open the door, cringing at the soft creak that echoes through the hallway. Are you kidding me? A goddamn fingerprint scanner at the emergency exit? What kind of anal-retentive paranoid lunatic…
Leonid, you fuckface.
As I curse Leonid’s name with enough vitriol to make a nun blush, the unmistakable roar of an engine pierces the silence. Someone’s flooring it in the basement. My heart slams into overdrive as I frantically search for another escape route. And there, like a glimmer of hope in a sea of shit, is a tiny window at the end of the hall. Not ideal, but at this point, I’d crawl through a sewer grate to get the hell out of here.
I’m up and sprinting before I can even form a plan. The dress rides up, flashing my ass at the goddamn world, but I don’t give a fuck. Pressing my face against the window, I’m met with a shitload of guards and a sinking feeling in my stomach.Fuck.
I drop down, gritting my teeth as the fabric bites into my thighs.
Think, Clara. Don’t panic, for fuck’s sake. There’s gotta be a way out. No cameras in sight. Good. Now, use that criminal mastermind of yours, and figure this shit out.
With my options dwindling faster than a burning fuse, taking a deep breath, I make a decision.
The elevator it is.
I hit the call button. The elevator chimes like a goddamn merry-go-round, but I stay plastered against the wall, breath caught in my throat. Seconds drag on like hours, the elevator taking its sweet goddamn time.
“Come on, you piece of shit,” I whisper, my fingers curling into fists. Fuck, I could use a weapon right about now. But I’m here in nothing but a goddamn gown and my bare hands.
