Page 8 of When You're Broken
CHAPTER THREE
Finn tried to even out his breathing, one hand braced against the rough brick wall of the narrow storeroom.Despite the stagnant chill of the basement air, sweat trickled down his temple.He could make out Amelia’s face in the half-dark: she looked pale and alert, her gaze locked on the small gap beneath the door.The single overhead bulb had died minutes ago, leaving them only the corridor’s faint glow seeping under that flimsy threshold.
He moved a fraction closer to her, lowering his voice to the barest whisper.“Still no footsteps.”
She shook her head, strands of dark hair brushing her cheeks.“Doesn’t mean he’s gone.”Her breath came in shallow puffs, matching the tension in her posture.“He might be waiting out there, gun ready.”
Finn drew in a steadying breath.The manager—Stanley Peterson—was armed with a firearm.He’d nearly shot them both just ten minutes before.The memory of muzzle flashes in the cramped basement was enough to raise goosebumps on Finn’s arms.He steadied himself:No sense in panicking.
“Why did he go for me, specifically?”he asked softly.“He had a clean shot at either of us, but he targeted me first.”
Amelia looked away.“I’ve been thinking the same thing.Could be Wendell told him you were the one to watch out for.Wendell wants me for his own twisted reasons, so the manager’s job is to ‘remove’ you.”She exhaled, frustration etched on her features.“It’s typical of Wendell to do something like that—make sure I’m left alone so he can corner me later.”
Finn’s heart squeezed at the mention of Wendell.Even locked away from the man, they felt his presence through these forced accomplices.The manager’s pale, sweating face and trembling arms behind that gun had burned into Finn’s mind.No rational person would do this unless he was under immense pressure.
He pressed a hand lightly to Amelia’s shoulder, seeing the strain in her eyes.She was the reason Wendell had orchestrated all these horrors, from kidnapping her brother Brendan to arming random accomplices.“We can’t stay hidden forever,” he murmured.“If the manager’s still outside, we’ll never get out to call for help.We have no signal, no phone line.We’ll be stuck here.”
Amelia nodded, lips tight.“I hate being cornered like this.But it’s not worth a direct confrontation.We’re unarmed.He has a gun.”Anger flickered across her expression.She swallowed hard.
The admission struck him with a fierce pang.He gave her hand a small squeeze.“I’m not leaving you behind,” he said, voice almost imperceptibly low.“But we need a plan.That manager won’t let us waltz out through the corridor.He’s determined to keep us down here, or at least keep me from leaving.”
Amelia chewed the inside of her cheek.“If we both rush him, he could shoot us from a distance.That gun… it’s not exactly a fair fight.”
Finn cast a glance around the cramped storeroom, stacked high with dusty boxes of old bedding or clothes.The place reeked of mildew.If there were a large item to shield them or something to distract the manager with, it might help.All he saw was a battered wooden crate, half-collapsed.Hardly bulletproof.
“We have to do something,” he whispered, some adrenaline creeping into his tone.“A distraction, maybe?If we lure him away from the stairs or door, one of us can slip out.”
Her immediate reaction was a frown.“Splitting up is risky.”
“I know,” he said quickly.“But if we don’t at least attempt something, we’ll be pinned here, and he’s clearly searching the basement for us, it’s only a matter of time before he tries to force this door open and we’d be sitting ducks.We’ve got to get a phone or some help.The second the local constabulary or our colleagues get a call, they’ll be here in minutes.That manager can’t hold off a full police presence.”
Amelia’s dark eyes flicked from him to the door.“So you want to go out there alone?”
“I’m not exactly chomping at the bit for that,” he admitted.“But if I can create a diversion, you can escape the basement, find a safe area, and call for backup.Then we surround him or at least talk him down.”
She pressed her lips into a line.“I appreciate the bravado, but no.This manager was aiming specifically at you.If you stroll out there, you’re a perfect target.If you die, Wendell wins.It’s exactly what he wants.”
Finn felt the corners of his mouth tense.She wasn’t wrong.“Then what do you suggest?We both charge him?”
A nervous laugh escaped her, humorless.“We might stand a chance if we catch him off guard.But that’s a big if.”She paused, eyes scanning the cramped space.“What about we move quietly, see if the corridor’s clear, and if so, we slip back upstairs?We can’t be sure he’s still out there.That last time he fired was minutes ago, then we heard footsteps, then it all went silent.Maybe he’s changed position, maybe he’s looking for us somewhere else.”
Finn nodded slowly, mental cogs turning.“All right.Let’s do it carefully.If he’s still out there, we can run or hide again.And if we’re lucky, one of us gets to the staircase unseen.”
“Good.”Amelia set her jaw.She flattened her palm on the door, leaning in to listen.Finn listened, too.Nothing.Not a scrape or shuffle.The hush felt unnatural, as though the manager might be holding his breath too.She looked back at Finn, eyebrows arched.“Let’s do it.”
He put a tentative hand on the door handle.Her posture tensed, coiled to dart back if the manager reappeared.With painstaking slowness, Finn eased the door open an inch.Amber corridor light spilled into their dim hideout.He froze.No shot rang out.No movement.He opened it further, enough to poke his head out.The corridor stretched in both directions, lined with metal shelving units and battered filing cabinets.Shadows of overhead pipes crisscrossed the ceiling.
No manager in sight.Finn’s heart hammered as he stepped out, crouching low.Amelia followed suit, just behind him.The air felt a few degrees cooler than the stuffy storeroom, and the tang of old gunpowder still lingered from earlier shots.He scanned left to right, breath held.Still no sign of Peterson.
Amelia placed a light hand on his shoulder, directing him toward the path that led back to the main basement corridor.Her lips pressed in a thin line, ready for a sudden attack.Step by step, they advanced back toward the route they'd come from.Every flicker of the overhead fluorescent made Finn flinch, expecting a muzzle flash.
Ahead, the corridor opened into a T-junction: left would lead them deeper into some unknown side of the basement, and right would bring them to the short flight of stairs to ground level.Vividly, he remembered the manager crouched at those stairs, gun in hand, blocking their only normal exit.A wave of dread prickled along his spine.
Amelia reached the corner first, flattening herself against the wall.She took a cautious peek around, then jerked back as a bullet ricocheted off the floor near her feet.“Down!”she hissed, diving behind a cabinet.
Finn scrambled after her, cursing under his breath.Another shot whined past, lodging in some unseen piece of metal with a metallic ring.The manager, apparently lying in wait, hammered them with a handful of shots that forced them to stay prone.Clouds of dust from chipped concrete swirled through the corridor.
“Stay where you are!”Peterson’s voice echoed, trembling.“You’re not getting out!”
