Page 10 of Exposé

My heart fluttered, and an involuntary smile percolated. "Thank you."

Her fingers touched her keyboard as she looked at me over her glasses. "Yep.Tick tock." She tapped her wrist. "Better get moving."

"Uh." I made a half-turn. "Right." I spun a one-eighty on my heels, rushing out of her office before she could change her mind, and screamed inside my head.

Finally.

Something to look forward to.

Rushing towards my desk, I stopped at Aria's and squealed with pinched lips and wide eyes. "I got it."

She removed her headphones from one ear. "You did?" Her brows pulled together.

"Well, not entirely. She said I had a week to make it sound convincing, but…that's a win, right?"

"To Whitney it is. Good job." She plopped her headphone back over her ear, and I rushed back to my desk, dropped into my seat, and filed a Freedom of Information request.

3

Nate

My feet hit the ground with hard beats as I picked up the pace and sprinted behind the abandoned warehouse in the rundown Sweet Water district. Sweat trickled down my spine and temples, the scent of piss and rotten food wafting up my flared nostrils.

The man in a black hoodie darted through the large, cracked open doors, his backpack filled with a NOC list, a ticket out of country, and enough money to get him there—at least, that's what I overheard before I disobeyed orders and chased after him.

I skidded as I made a sudden direction change, my hand scraping against the loose gravel and asphalt. "Son of a bitch." Fire licked up my palm as I righted myself and dipped into the rusted warehouse, the pigeons fluttering in the rafters.

Silence greeted me, with dust speckling the beam of light streaking through.

"I know you're in here, Manuel."

Shuffling sparked from the left as I drew my weapon; the suppressor twisted on tight. "There's nowhere to go. Just give it up."

Boom.

I raised my pistol, my heart skipping a beat before leveling out.

"Come in with me now, and the consequences won't be as severe." My upper lip twitched. "But if I have to continue chasing you—"

A black object rushed through the shadows, and I moved, my feet carrying me towards him with lightning speed.

I'm going to ruin your miserable life.

The man huffed and wheezed as he booked it through the dusty warehouse.

Manuel, somewhere in his early forties, towered with the build of a professional athlete—broad shoulders, lean muscle, and the kind of effortless power that came from years of discipline. However, there was one area where he fell short, a deficiency where I surpassed him with little effort—stamina.

Grabbing a broom leaning against a metal column, he swung it in my direction and let go, causing me to jerk to the side as it blew past my face.

I tucked my pistol back into my holster at my back and jumped over debris left over from the workers a few decades ago.

Ka-boom.

Manuel sent a large metal barrel rolling my way, its rusted exterior matching the liquid contents pouring onto the concrete with a stench of decay and hint of oil.

I jumped over it with ease, causing his stagnant features to wilt. He spun around and ran to the opposite side of the warehouse towards an exit door, its once-illuminated sign above, now broken into fragments below.

If he makes it back outside...

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