I don’t get it.
How she can just… move on. How she can stand there, sparkling at Caleb like there’s not a ghost in the goddamn cubicles.
He’s dead. I saw it happen. I ran from it. And now she’s standing ten feet from me, acting like nothing ever happened, like yogurt and rollout plans are the only things that matter.
Maybe she never cared. Maybe she’s scared. Or maybe this is just how people survive things like this, pretending hard enough until it feels normal again.
I glance at the corner of my screen. 5:25 PM.
Five minutes to make it to the employee parking garage.
I turn off the monitor. My reflection flashes in the black screen.
I gather my things: wallet, keys, that mini deodorant I keep in case the AC dies again. The printouts I didn’t mean to bring home. And the USB.
The USB.
I stare at it for a second before tucking it into the zip pocket of my purse like it might explode if jostled. It feels heavier than it is. Stupid, slick little thing. Half the reason Dave’s dead. The reason I almost—
Nope. Not going there.
I zip the purse closed, stand, and glance once toward Caleb’s office.
He and Janice are standing just outside it now. She’s facing him too directly, standing too close, like her body’s already halfway through his HR file. One hand on her hip, one laugh too loud.
And he’s not even listening. His eyes are already on me.
I freeze.
Not dramatically, but just enough that I know he sees it. That flicker of something on his face. As if he’s about to say something. Or follow me. Or ask a question I really don’t want to answer.
He takes one step in my direction. Slow. Intentional.
Nope.
I pivot so hard it almost looks natural. Like I just happened to remember something important on the far side of the building. Idon’t look back. Don’t give him a chance to call out to me. If he even was about to.
I take a slow breath.
Then another.
Groceries.
I’m going grocery shopping.
With a Bratva bodyguard who could crush my skull between his pinkies.
And right now, that feels like the safer option.
I head toward the exit.
Just before the stairwell door swings shut behind me, I glance down at the watch.
The one Anton gave me. The one he said he could hear through.
I hesitate. Then lift my wrist slightly, just enough.
“On my way,” I murmur, low and quick.
