“Going somewhere?” His voice was low, controlled, dangerous.
“Let go.”
“Not until you tell me what you were doing at the wedding.” His grip tightened. “And what you're doing here.”
I twisted, used his grip against him, broke free with a move I'd learned from men who'd taught me how to get out of holds. His hand caught my mask instead, fingers tangling in the elastic.
I bolted.
The mask ripped away in his hand. I heard him curse behind me, heard his footsteps as he gave chase.
A corridor stretched ahead. I ran properly now, no more pretence, just speed. Behind me, I heard him gaining ground—he was faster than he looked, moved like someone who'd trained for this.
The entrance. The receptionist looked up, startled, as I burst through. I didn't stop, didn't explain, just hit the door and exploded out into the November night.
Cold air hit my face. Rain was falling, a light drizzle making the pavement slick.
I ran left, toward the alley I'd scouted on my way in. Behind me, the door slammed open. His footsteps echoed on wet pavement.
“Stop!” His voice carried through the rain.
I didn't. Couldn't. The alley was ahead, narrow enough that his size would work against him. I ducked into it, boots splashing through puddles, one hand on the brick wall to keep my balance as I ran.
He was right behind me. I could hear his breathing, heavy and controlled, could hear the slap of his boots on wet stone.
The alley opened onto a side street. I burst out, scanned for options. Scaffolding climbed four stories up the building across the street.
I ran for it, grabbed the lowest bar, pulled myself up. My shoulders screamed in protest but I kept climbing, hand over hand, finding footholds in the metal framework.
Below me, I heard him reach the scaffolding. Heard him hesitate.
“Get down here!”
I climbed higher, breathing hard, muscles burning. Two stories up now. Three.
I looked down. He was on the scaffolding, climbing, but cautiously—his weight and size making every movement careful where mine was desperate and reckless.
I reached the top, hauled myself onto the building's roof. Flat, slick with rain, but open. I ran across it, jumped the gap to the next building—only four feet, easy if you didn't look down.
By the time I dropped to the street, three buildings away, I was shaking. Adrenaline. Rain. The sheer insanity of what had just happened.
Part of me was already looking forward to him hunting me down. I smiled despite the rain.
