The last lock finally gave, and my lungs squeezed as I stood, body turned and ear pressed to the door like I might be able to hear any movement from within.
Anticipating a full ambush waiting on the other side.
I put my hand on the knob and slowly turned, and the door creaked as I carefully nudged it open.
Listening for any breath.
A heartbeat.
Only a buzz echoed in my ears, a whirring of stilled silence as I stepped inside while chaos continued to rage outside.
It was even darker here, and I cringed when the sole of my boot squeaked against the hard, slick floor.
The lights were cut, but I could ascertain the room was a storage area.
Boxes stacked high.
I knew this room, and I felt even more certain that Dereck had come through.
This matched the exact layout he’d given.
On the other side of it would be a hall.
A hall that would lead to the inner sanctum of the building where Kent spent most of his time.
His living space.
His office.
Farther down were dingy rooms where he kept his captives.
Where Elena had been held hostage.
Manipulated and trapped.
I carefully crept through the maze, my heart in my throat, my skin drenched by the fear and determination that seeped from my pores.
I fumbled my way along a wall, and I slid my palms over the surface until I finally found the door.
I paused, listened, felt.
Let the extra senses that had kept me alive for all these years bleed out.
A groan of something, a shift of feet.
Someone was there.
I tucked a gun into its holster and pulled my knife from its sleeve, and I locked the air in my lungs as I quietly unlatched the door and slipped out into the dusk of the hall.
A man was ten feet ahead and facing away.
I stole forward, and I had his chin in my hand and the knife dragging across his throat before he even knew I was there.
Blood spurted onto my arm, and I carefully laid his limp body on the ground before I stepped over the pile of garbage and continued to edge down what felt like an endless hall.
Footsteps contained. Blood pumping a rabid, ruthless beat.
Finally, I made it close to its end. Two armed men stood outside the door, one on his phone facing the wood and the other shifted toward me, though his head was angled, clearly trying to listen to the other’s conversation.
