Chapter 3 - The Departure
Mave did not wait to hear the rest of their conversation.
She practically sprinted back to her small room in the servant's quarters.
She stripped off her black and white uniform and threw on her jeans and the cheap trench coat.
She grabbed the company phone and shoved it deep into her pocket.
She knew Leo could track the device, but she needed it to navigate the city transit system.
Mave slipped out the back delivery entrance of the mansion.
The freezing rain from the previous night had turned into a bitter, biting drizzle.
She walked two miles down the winding estate road before catching a city bus toward the Narrows.
Her mind raced with terrifying possibilities during the hour-long ride.
If Leo's men were watching Sarah, they might have intercepted the Russians.
Or worse, Leo's men might be the actual threat.
She finally reached Sarah's dilapidated apartment building on 4th Street.
Mave bypassed the broken elevator and ran up four flights of concrete stairs.
She pounded her fist frantically against the chipped paint of apartment 4B.
There was no answer.
She twisted the brass doorknob.
It was completely unlocked.
Mave pushed the door open and stepped into the dimly lit living room.
The apartment had been entirely ransacked.
Couch cushions were slashed, books were thrown everywhere, and the television was shattered on the floor.
"Sarah?" Mave whispered into the terrifying silence.
A floorboard creaked loudly behind her.
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Before Mave could turn around, a cold metal barrel was pressed firmly against the back of her head.
"Drop the phone, little bird," a man with a thick Russian accent ordered.
