Page 73 of Man of the Year

“That sounds wild,” he says. “That sounds… Well, that actually sounds like a blackmail plan.”

“But I think Rich was right!” I insist.

I know he was. I’ve had suspicions about Rosenberg for a while. He might just be a bigger monster than I thought.

“Rich is dead, Nick. Do you realize that? And if Rich was right, we might all be in danger.”

Nick’s phone on the console rings, the nameGeoffrey Rosenbergflashing on the screen.

“Yes,” Nick answers, his voice low and cautious. Maybe he believes me after all.

I study the car interior, trying to listen in to what the boss says on the other end, but all I hear is his escalated tone, though I can’t figure out what it’s about. An unusual object in the console attracts my attention—a breathalyzer. That’s taking sobriety up a notch.

“Doesn’t matter,” Nick snaps into the phone, and I tense at the words. “All you have to worry about is the board meeting today. No… Not a problem. Not anymore,” he grits out, making my hair stand on end. His voice has acquired a sharp undertone, and it sounds off. “I’m dealing with something right now.”

Without saying anything else, he cuts the call and tosses the phone into the console.

I hold my breath. That couldn’t have been Geoffrey Rosenberg, right? I’ve never heard Nick talk in this manner, let alone to our boss.

Abruptly, Nick swerves the car to the curb and parks.

“Why did we pull over here?” I ask, looking out the window to see that we are parked on a very quiet dead-end residential street.

Nick raises himself slightly, trying to get something out of his jeans pocket. Only now do I notice that he’s not dressed in his usual suit and tie. He’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans. My eyes drop lower, to his shoes, and my breath hitches in my throat—blue, he’s wearing blue sports sneakers!

“He got pushed.”

“Yeah, there was someone behind him.”

“That guy with blue sports sneakers, where did he go?”

My blood turns icy cold as I see what Nick pulls out of his pocket. It’s an elongated red cartridge, just like the one I found on the floor of the library.

“Nick?” a petrified whisper leaves my mouth.

He turns toward me, his face completely blank. “Seriously, Natalie.”

Before I get a chance to say anything else, he lunges at me. A sharp stab in my neck makes me yelp. When Nick lets go, I frantically pull the door handle, but it won’t budge.

Suddenly, my body goes limp, warmth spreading through it, but not a pleasant one—it’s paralyzing. I try to say something, but the jumble of words coming out of my mouth is slurred. A wave of nausea washes over me. Everything starts spinning.

Nick caps the cartridge and tosses it into the console, then mutters a curse.

His voice trails off, his last words, “You should’ve minded your own business.”

FIFTY-SIX

ANONYMOUS

Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!

That’s not how it was supposed to go!

Everything seems to be spiraling out of control. I always have a plan B. This? This is plan C. Or D? I’ve lost count. This has been a long game. I need to finish this, whatever it takes.

No rules.

No mercy.

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