Page 4 of Sanctuary

Wren nodded enthusiastically. “And we’ll all be here to support you! Plus, finding a wife shouldn’t be too difficult. You’re quite the catch, you know.”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Can we please stop talking about my love life?”

Mr. Fitzgerald cleared his throat once more. “If we could return to the matter at hand... There are still several documents that require all your signatures,” he said as he slapped a pen upon some papers and slid it across the desk towards me.

As I picked up the pen, my hand trembled slightly, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my life was going to change irreversibly. I would soon be responsible for the lives and livelihoods of hundreds of people.

I was bound to fuck something up.

Chapter 3

Mia

The bus lurched to a stop, jolting me from a fitful sleep. Confused, as the other passengers began gathering their belongings, I blinked and glanced out the window to see Union Station. We were in Toronto.

My heart began to race as I slung my backpack over my shoulder and followed the crowd off the bus. The station was a bluster of noises - announcements blaring over the loudspeaker, luggage wheels scraping against concrete, voices calling out greetings and goodbyes. I scanned the sea of faces, searching for Wren’s familiar smile, but she was nowhere to be seen.

A man in a dark coat caught my eye. He was leaning against a pillar, his gaze scanning the crowd. My breath caught in my throat. Was it the same man from this morning? I couldn’t be sure, but I wasn’t about to stick around to find out.

I ducked my head and pushed through the crowd, my heart pounding in my ears. Where was Wren? I fumbled for the burner phone in my pocket. My fingers trembled as I tried to type out a message.

A hand grabbed my arm. I whirled around, ready to scream, only to find myself face-to-face with a smiling elderly woman.

“Excuse me, dear,” she said, “could you help me with my bag?”

I exhaled sharply, forcing a smile as I helped her lift her suitcase. When I turned back, the man in the dark coat was gone. Had I imagined him?

Panic clawed at my throat as I stumbled out of the station into the chilly Toronto air. Cars whizzed by horns blaring. I spun in a circle, searching desperately for any sign of Wren.

That’s when I heard it - the screech of tires against asphalt. A sleek black Cadillac came to an abrupt halt in front of me, and I caught a glimpse of her worried face through the windshield.

Relief flooded through me as I yanked open the passenger door and practically dove inside. “Go!” I gasped. “Get us out of here, now!”

Wren didn’t hesitate. She stomped on the gas pedal, and we peeled away from the curb, leaving the bus station and its potential dangers behind.

“Mia, what the hell is going on?” Wren demanded, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

I slumped in my seat, my heart still racing. “I wish,” I muttered, then took a deep breath. “It all started this morning. There was a knock on my door before dawn...”

As we weaved through Toronto traffic, I poured out the whole terrifying tale - the mysterious man, Mr. Baxter’s murder, my escape through the crawlspace. Wren’s eyes grew wider with each detail.

“Jesus Christ,” she breathed, shaking her head in disbelief. “And you’re sure this isn’t some kind of sick joke?”

I wished it was. “No joke. Mr. Baxter is dead, and whoever killed him is after me now.” My voice cracked. “I don’t know what to do, Wren. I’m scared.”

Her jaw clenched as she made a sharp turn down a narrow side street. “First things first, we need to get you home, Declan will know what to do.”

As we wound our way through the city, I kept glancing between the side mirror and the one on my visor, half-expecting to see the black sedan tailing us. But the streets behind us remained clear and a thought occurred to me. “How did you know I was in Toronto?”

Wren glanced at me. “I tracked your bus on the app.”

Panic surged in my chest. “You don’t suppose that guy would have thought to do the same thing do you?”

Wren’s fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter. “What’s the odds?” she asked. “It’s not like he knew where you were going.”

I shook my head, trying to dismiss the thought. “You’re right. I’m just paranoid.”

She nodded grimly. “We’ll take the long way home, just in case. Keep your eyes peeled for any suspicious vehicles.”

---