This hasn’t happened since we increased security ten years ago after another worker had found their way down here. Another time in my life I’d rather forget entirely, but can’t whenit secured my place in hell as if I wasn’t already going there to begin with.
And it's a major problem she’s here, considering my knife is lodged in the side of Rowan’s stomach, and I look like a psychopathic murderer with his blood coating my hands.
Which I am.
Time stands still as we stare at each other. One heartbeat passes. Then two.
And by the third, before I can get a full breath and comprehend what’s happening, she takes off into a dead sprint.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
I stand and retract my knife from his stomach, listening to his pitiful grunts before smearing his blood across my pants. I’ll just buy another suit.
As I always do when carnage soils it.
You’d think I’d be running after her, considering the state she found me torturing this man who doesn’t deserve to be labeled a victim. For some reason, behind the irritation clouding my vision, the thought of hunting her down through the maze of concrete sends an odd thrill that bolts through my body like a drug.
Darkness thrums in my veins.
I point a crimson finger at Rowan. “When I get back, you’d better tell me what I want to know, or this knife will find your heart. Or your throat. Or the back of your skull. I haven’t quite decided how I want to end you yet. It all comes down to your cooperation.”If you don’t bleed out before then.
I straighten my suit jacket and huff out an irritated groan before marching across the room in only a few strides. One of the perks of being massive, from years of torturing my body in the gym and my 6’4 frame, is that I cover more ground taking normal steps.
When I reach the metal door, I open it and step into the hallway, slamming it behind me, hoping the sound reverberating off the walls sparks an extra sense of terrified urgency in her steps.
Reaching into my suit pants pocket, I take out my phone and click on Brody’s contact, our head of security for the Megalley Syndicate. We pride ourselves on keeping our operations locked and impenetrable, but with a fucking huge empire and the amount of security systems we have, things are bound to slip through our fingers.
Pretty, curious things.
Doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s solved by a metal chain and a permanent vacation to the bottom of the ocean—perks of being on the coast. Most people are terrified of the monsters that lurk beneath the surface, but they forget that more dangerous ones breathe the same air.
I place the phone against my ear. As always, it rings once before he responds in greeting with a firm, “Boss.”
“I’m in the West Wing. Someone slipped through our fingers. I need a location—now.”
The unmistakable rapid clicking of a keyboard is heard over his voice. “Rowan?”
I wish. That would be easier to handle than this clusterfuck I’m about to find myself in.
The spark of exhilaration that punches me in the gut surprises me. I don’t let it show. “More like a rat.”
“Am I supposed to know what that means—” His following, “Oh shit,” tells me he’s found what I’m looking for. He chuckles. “She’s headed for the South Wing.”
I start moving, hustling through the hallway. My pace can’t be described as a run or a walk. Somewhere in between because I can’t ignore the flash of anticipation in my chest, knowing that this might be the most exciting chase I’ve had.
“Stay on the line. Let me know when I’m getting close. She’s in the uniform overalls for the haunted mine ride. Can you get a good enough read on her face to—”
As if he were reading my thoughts, he says, “Her name is Kate Hannaford.”
Kate.
Her name ricochets, penetrating so deeply that the other details fade to the background when he says, “Age twenty-four. We employed her four months ago.” He hums low in his throat. “Apparently, we pay her paycheck in cash. Odd request for a pretty thing like her.”
The hairs on my neck gravitate toward the cement ceiling. The gears rotating in my head screech to a halt, nearly bringing me to a complete stop. “Did you say four months?”
“Yep.” A few clicks in the background indicate that he is switching between views. “Take a right and then a left.” I do as he says, and it's not long before the soft patter of footsteps echoes through the concrete maze. “If you take another right and then a left, she’ll run into you.”
“Put it on my reminders to bring this up at our next security briefing. We can’t have shit like this happening. And I want any information you can pull up about this girl.”
