Chapter 8 - The Vault
The hitman gestured with the barrel of the gun, forcing me toward the basement stairs.
"Walk," he barked.
My mind raced through every risk scenario I had ever modeled.
The basement housed an old, heavy-duty commercial bank vault from the building's previous owner.
If he locked me inside, I would suffocate long before anyone found me.
I walked slowly, pretending my legs were giving out from fear.
As we reached the bottom of the stairs, I intentionally stumbled, dropping my heavy flashlight.
It rolled across the concrete floor, coming to a stop near a massive electrical panel.
"Pick it up," the hitman sighed in annoyance, stepping closer.
I crouched down, my fingers brushing the cold metal of the flashlight.
But I didn't grab the light.
Instead, I grabbed the heavy, exposed lever of the main breaker switch.
I yanked it down with all my strength.
The warehouse plunged into absolute, blinding darkness.
The hitman fired blindly, the silenced bullet sparking violently against the concrete wall above my head.
I scrambled backward on my hands and knees, crawling behind a stack of wooden pallets.
"You can't hide in here, lady!" he shouted, his heavy boots echoing on the floor.
I remembered the blueprint perfectly.
I quietly slid along the wall, inching my way toward the heavy steel door of the vault.
I grabbed a loose metal pipe and tossed it across the room.
It clattered loudly against the far wall.
The hitman spun and fired twice at the noise.
Using the distraction, I slipped behind him and slammed all my weight into his back.
He stumbled forward, pitching headfirst into the open vault.
I grabbed the massive steel door and shoved it shut with a deafening clang.
I spun the locking wheel, sealing him inside.
I collapsed against the cold steel, gasping for air.
My prepaid phone vibrated in my pocket.
It was a text from Natalie.
"Mara. The FBI just raided Grant's hotel room."
May you like
"He wasn't there."
"He had a tracker on Tessa's phone."
