Page 66 of Thunder

"I believe so," I reply, choosing my words carefully. "Why do you ask?"

"I need to know you're committed, Lia," Brian says, suddenly standing up.

“I am, Mr. Russell. What makes you think I wouldn't be?"

"You left workearly today. Why? What, exactly, have you been up to?”

"Everything's fine. I'm fine. I just needed a break." I swallow hard, the lump in my throat growing. "What is this all about?"

Without warning, his hand reaches behind his back and reappears, holding a sleek, black pistol. My stomach drops like a stone, and I release my grip on the can of mace—useless against a gun.

"You're digging into places you shouldn't," he warns, his eyes turning icy. "You think I wouldn't find out? That we wouldn't know the second you accessed that server? What an incredibly stupid move, Lia, making yourself into a liability. I had such high hopes for you. That someone with your talent and ambition, you could be brought into this business gradually. That, maybe with the right mentoring and the right incentives, you could really become an asset."

Both flattered and repulsed, because it is, on a sick, twisted level, a compliment to be thought of as an asset to a massive criminal scheme, I take a step back. My heart races like wildfire, breath catching in my chest, my focus suddenly narrowing to the pistol in my boss’s hands.

"Brian, please," I whisper. "We can figure this out. Just put the gun down."

He laughs bitterly. "Oh Lia, it's too late for that."

I don't want to die. Not like this. Not at the hands of a man I once respected. If only Marcus were here. He'd know what to do. He'd save me.

But he's not. I have to save myself.

"Please," I say again, forcing strength into my voice. "There has to be another way."

"Maybe there was before," he says, his eyes glinting with something dark and cruel. "But you went digging, Lia. Now you know too much."

"Let me go," I plead, tears welling in my eyes. "I won't say anything. I promise."

"Sorry, Lia." The gun feels like an icy blade against my temple. "But I don't believe you."

My breath hitches in my throat as I brace for the deafening roar of the gun.

"Any last words?" he asks, a twisted smile on his lips.

"Go to hell."

"How trite. For someone with your credentials, I expected something better. Just another way you’re a disappointment, you stupid bitch," he says, and I close my eyes, praying for a miracle.

The air freezes around me, and I can feel death's icy fingers reaching out. My life hangs by a thread, a single moment away from being snuffed out.

The gun rests against my head, held in shaky, fearful hands.

Why hasn’t he pulled the trigger yet?

"Brian," I choke out, fear strangling my voice. "This isn't you."

"Shut up!" he snaps, the gun shaking in his hand. "You shouldn't have poked your nose where it doesn't belong. This is all your fault."

"Please," I beg, letting my eyes well up with tears. "We both know you’re not a murderer. We both know you don’t want to do this. I won’t tell anyone. I swear on my life. "

"Your life isn't worth much right now," he sneers, his voice rising. “Certainly not what it’ll cost me if I don’t do what they want. Don’t you understand who you’re messing with, you stupid bitch?”

As his voice hits a crescendo, there’s a sudden thud from the wall next to my bed and a loud voice next door yelling, “I fucking told you, keep it down in there.”

My neighbor. That awful, whiny, wonderful asshole.

Brian turns, distracted.

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