Page 37 of Nemesis

“Atlas is here,” I say without preamble.

“Aren’t you on your date? The sun hasn’t set. He should be where you are.”

I bite my lip. “Everything he said pretty much relates back to…” God, I can’t even say its name. “He’s in this building and he might have no idea what went on here, or he knows everything and he’s fucking messing with me.”

“Okay. What do you want to do?”

Great question.

“Get him out without making a scene,” I say. “My security guys will just throw him out on the street… this needs a more delicate approach.”

He hums. “Okay. We’ll be there in twenty. Stay out of sight.”

“Thanks,” I whisper.

He said… what had Kade said? That I’m the only one who can find Reese? And is that because of Terror or something else…?

My cell rings. I glance at the caller ID and allow a teeny,tinysmile at Nathan Bradshaw’s name scrolling across the top of the screen. He’s an asshole in the worst of times and a life saver in the best of them.

“Hey,” I answer.

“Are you at Bow & Arrow?”

“Yeah…?”

“Fuck.” Behind his voice are sirens. Not just one cop car, but a few. The sounds all overlap, like wolves howling at the start of a hunt. “Any chance of you getting out of there?”

“Did my brother call you?”

He pauses. “Should he have?”

I wince. “No, no. Why are you sounding so freaked out?”

“There’s been a bomb threat.”

My stomach swoops, and I swivel back to the security feeds. “Did they say where?”

“They said, ‘Where everything began.’”

Oh.

Fuck.

I hang up on the sheriff. I grab my holstered gun from my purse and tuck it in my jeans, shove away from my desk. At the last second, I shrug on the hoodie that was hanging on the back of my door. It conceals the handle of the gun. No need to alarm my staff, right?

It could be a moot point, because as soon as my hair is out of my face, I sprint out of the office. I take the service stairwell down past the club and say a silent thanks that I wasn’t planning on going into the club tonight.

That decision led me to keep on the leather pants and boots I wore earlier. Although after my visit to Starlight, I had to walk home in my bra with my jacket zipped up to my chin to cover it. My ruined shirt was tucked in my pocket.

At home, I couldn’t control my frown as I changed into a shirt and replaced my jacket.

I bypass the club’s levels and reach the lowest floor in this stairwell.

And there, standing in front of a heavy metal door that I make every effort to avoid, my heart skips.

Beyond this door lies Terror. Some of it anyway.

This part of the building has been sealed off for years. But even as I reach for the handle, pulling it open on squealing hinges, I know someone else has been here.

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