Page 56 of Thunder

"Tell me about it," Sarah mutters. "I've never seen so many suits in one place before. You'd think we were being audited or something."

As if on cue, one of the suited men passes by, and I can't help but stare. There's a distinct bulge under his jacket that sends a jolt of fear through me.

Could that be a gun?

I swallow hard, noticing several tattoos on his hand and neck, which tells me that either auditors lead much more dangerous lives than anyone gives them credit for, or these men are here for darker business than checking our books.

"Uh, I should get back to work," I stammer, my heart racing.

I return to my desk, my mind spinning with unanswered questions and growing terror.

This is bad.

Real bad.

No, it’s worse than that—it’s terrible, and I need to figure out what I’m going to do, fast, or else I’m going to be dead.

As I sit at my desk, pretending to work while keeping an eye on the strangers in the hallway, I feel like a hunted animal; there's only one thing that matters now: surviving whatever nightmare is unfolding before me. My focus lasts only fifteen minutes before my instincts overwhelm me; instincts that scream at me to leave, to get out of this place that now feels more like a prison than an office.

Work be damned—I need to escape.

"Going for some fresh air!" I call out to Sarah as I stride toward the exit, my voice barely concealing the panic bubbling up inside me. The click-clack of my heels on the concrete echoes through the empty parking lot, heightening my sense of urgency.

The rows of cars seem to close in around me as I hurry to my car, parked alone in the far corner. It's as if they're trying to trap me, just like the suffocating walls of the office. My heart is a relentless drumbeat urging me to go faster.

"Come on, come on," I mutter under my breath, my heels clattering frantically against the pavement.

Every second feels like an eternity as I race toward safety.

That's when I hear it—the softest of sounds, almost imperceptible. Footsteps that aren't my own, like ghostly whispers suggesting that I'm not alone. My senses heighten, and I can practically feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

"Damn it, Lia, move! You are not being executed at work," I tell myself, my pace quickening even more. The footsteps grow louder, closer, and I know I need to reach my car before they catch up to me; I curse myself for never taking any crappy electives while I was in college—there was even a course on power walking; I even debated taking it with Sera, but decided against it because it seemed like a waste of tuition dollars. Which it was. But now, oh it would be so useful.

If I can make it to Marcus, he can protect me. I have to get to him. He is my salvation.

My lungs are burning as my car finally comes into sight.

My hand fumbles in my purse for the keys, fingers trembling as I try to hold on to them.

Just a little further, Lia. You can do this.

The footsteps are closer now, and I fumble with my keys as I reach my car. The metallic jingle of the keychain mocks my frantic movements, and I curse under my breath.

"Come on, come on," I whisper, jamming the key into the lock and twisting it as hard as I can. Relief floods through me as I hear the click of the door unlocking, and I practically throw myself inside, slamming the door shut with a loud thud.

I pull out my phone, desperately needing to reach Marcus.

"Hey, it's me," I mutter into it, barely audible even to myself. I’m too shaken to trust my figures with typing a text. I need to use my nearly-as-shaky voice. "I need to see you. ASAP. Something feels very wrong. Meet me at your house." My thumb hovers over the send button before I finally press it.

Message sent, I grip the steering wheel to steady my shaking hands. The fake leather feels cool against my sweaty palms, grounding me for a moment. I squeeze it so hard that it cheaply squeaks beneath my wet hands.

I have to get out of here.

I start the car and guide it out of the parking space.

As I merge into the street, I glance in my rearview mirror, praying that the pursuer from before has given up.

But what I see chills me to my core—a car with tinted windows, following right on my tail.

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