A mist of red sprays across the second man's face. His laughter stops.
Before he can comprehend what's happening, I fire again.
His head snaps back, and his body crumples, his legs folding beneath him like someone kicked them out from under him.
Both men lie motionless in the grass.
I move toward the bodies, intending to search them for anything, and as I approach, I spot something.
A service entrance. A metal door built into the back of the villa, partially hidden by overgrown bushes.
I squeeze between them and go to try the handle, but I can see there's a lock on it.
This has to be a way in.
I quickly check my perimeter, press the muzzle of my gun flush against the lock, and fire.
The metallic ping of the bullet hitting the mechanism is louder than the muffled gunshot.
The lock shatters and falls to the ground.
I pop the door open and scan the area with my gun.
I see a set of stairs descending under the villa into complete darkness.
I hesitate for only a second, knowing this is my way in, so I step inside and pull the door shut behind me.
Absolute darkness swallows me.
I can't see my own hand in front of my face.
I slide my shoe forward, feeling for the edge of the step. I find it and slowly take a step.
Then another.
And another.
My heart pounds in my chest. Despite my efforts to breathe quietly, my breath is ragged and loud in the enclosed space.
The walls press in around me. The air is thick, and I feel like I'm a sitting duck, but none of that matters because I'm inside now.
I take another step down.
I'm coming, Danika.
26
DANIKA
The hands on my arms yank me forward, and I stumble, my feet catching on something. Carpet, maybe a rug, I can't tell. The hood over my head is so thick I can't see anything. Not even a hint of light bleeds through, but I can smell something.
It burns my nostrils. That sharp, artificial lemon scent housekeepers use. The scent clings to the air, and while they think it smells nice, I've never liked it.
So, I'm in a house. A nice house, probably.
The realization doesn't comfort me.
We keep moving, and we walk across what sounds like hardwood now. The guards flanking me say nothing, their grips staying firm on my upper arms. I try to gauge the layout. Left turn, then straight, then another left, but my disorientation makes it impossible to build a mental map.
