“No!” I scream, trying to run toward the sounds, but I’m yanked back.
“You are not getting killed on my watch. Head down,” the woman practically growls.
Once I’m locked in the car, she sprints toward the action, and I’m left wondering what the hell is happening. I watch for any sign of Chris or Cano, but none come. Time passes in a warp. I can’t tell if thirty seconds pass or thirty minutes. When the woman comes back, she tucks her gun in her holster before slipping into the driver’s seat and leaving the warehouse.
“What’s going on?” I ask frantically.
“You’re being taken for questioning. You’ll sit tight until that mess gets sorted, then we’ll have a conversation and go from there.”
“Am I being arrested?”
“We’ll determine that once the dust settles.”
“Who are you?” I ask, trying desperately to find answers.
“I’m Deputy U.S. Marshal Juliette Knight.”
“Marshals? I thought they handled fugitives,” I mutter to myself.
“Some do. We just happen to be running a bigger operation.”
“And Chris is a Marshal too?” I ask.
“Chris? Ah, yes. He is.” The way she says it means that Chris isn’t his real name, but I have a feeling I don’t have the right to ask for it. “Is he alright?”
She looks at me in the rearview mirror. “What’s he to you?”
Great question. What is Chris to me? I know I want more time with him. I know I like him far too much. And I also know that I know nothing about him. He’s law enforcement, for God’s sake.
Holy shit, how much trouble am I in?
“I … have no idea.”
The drive to the police department is far quicker than my head needs to catch up on what’s going on. Juliette gets me out of the car and into what I assume is an interview room. She is nice enough to unlock the cuffs and get me some water.
“One of us will be back in a few.” Then she’s gone.
Now, I have all the time in the world to think about what the fuck happened today. Too bad my head is stuck on if I’m going to prison. I mean, I was helping move all those artifacts. I literally jammed myself into a position closer to Cano, so they likely have way more dirt on me.
How many years would all that get me?
Cano.
I remember lunging before all hell broke loose. My mind works tirelessly to figure out if I made contact or not. My hand moves up into my field of vision. The feeling of your blood draining or being so shocked your body feels like electricity is zapping it hits me hard. It’s wired yet sluggish at the same time.
Darkened red blood covers my right hand. I look all over it, trying to find the source but find no cuts. Did I actually hit Cano? If I did, was I able to do enough damage?
Oh no … I’m here because I murdered him.
I always knew it would come to this. I had contingencies on contingencies. Most of them involved me fleeing the country. I’ve only ever thought about what going to prison would be like a couple of times. I always assumed I would either get away with it or die, honestly.
This is definitely not that.
“Miss Daniels, is it?” A tall man walks in, startling me.
“Y-y-yes.”
“I’m Deputy Sinclair. Can you tell me why you were in that warehouse?”
