Page 68 of Run for Her Life
Her resolve hardened. She had no choice.
She glanced over her shoulder—nobody there. The security guard wouldn’t do his next round for another fifteen minutes. Slipping a gloved hand into her coat pocket, she pulled out the duplicate key she had swiped weeks ago. The lock clicked too loudly, making her hesitate. She glanced up and down the hallway. Still no sign of anyone. She had disabled the security cameras to play on a loop.
The inside of the office was lush, oozing power—from sweeping views of the city and first-edition books to an expensive scotch decanter. She could feel his eyes on her even though she was alone. That was the chokehold he had on her. That’s why she had to leave.
She moved quickly.
The safe was behind the bookcase. She knew because she had watched him enter the combination once before. He had spun the dial with a practiced ease, making no effort to hide it from her. His tendrils were embedded so deeply in her that even she believed she would never betray him.
She crouched down, pushing aside the row of leather-bound volumes to reveal the sleek steel door behind them. The lock gleamed under the glow of the desk lamp.
Her breath slowed. With every click, the knot in her chest tightened. Guilt washed over her. What was she doing? Betraying the hand that had fed her and raised her.
No.It was time to the cut the cord. If not for her then for Emily. Because Emily deserved better.
The dial turned smoothly beneath her fingers. One wrong move and the alarm would trip. She swallowed hard and then the final click. The safe door swung open.
Inside were stacks of crisp bills, an envelope filled with passports, and a single leather-bound diary.
There was only one thing she cared about and she now held it in her hands. Grazing its soft and worn-out cover with her fingertips, a thrilling sensation jolted her nerves. She tucked it away in her coat and closed the safe.
At full speed, she sprinted out of the office and down the hallway. She turned a corner to head to the elevator and bumped into someone.
She gasped, her heart lurching violently. “Oh, it’s you!”
Tall, polished, his suit still crisp despite the late hour, he held a folder under his arm, his dark, beady eyes narrowing slightly as he looked down at her. “What are you doing here this late?”
His voice was smooth and buttery but she knew it wasn’t genuine. She’d once watched him beat someone to death. She forced a quick smile, adjusting her coat to keep the diary pressed against her chest. “I thought I left my wallet somewhere here when I was in for a meeting. But it’s not there.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I see.” He glanced at the office door behind her.
She let out a small, forced laugh. “I have to go. I have a birthday party to chaperone tomorrow. See you later?”
He studied her for a second too long. The air between them thickened, charged with something unreadable. “You’re a very dedicated mother,” he said finally, his lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Well,” he continued, glancing down at his watch, “I won’t keep you.”
She exhaled a little too sharply. “Yeah, I should go.” She stepped past him, willing herself not to rush. Then, his hand wrapped around her arm. Her spine snapped straight.
“Did you get information on the next target?”
She didn’t look at him. “Yes.”
“I know you got a little… involved with your previous target,” he hissed softly, like a serpent, sniffing its prey. “Being a mother has made you soft.”
She forced another smile but this one was hard. “It hasn’t made me soft. It’s done the opposite. I’m willing to doanythingfor her. A feeling you wouldn’t understand.”
His lips and nostrils twitched, like he was holding back a jab. Their relationship had always been tense. They were opposite sides of the same coin.
She turned again, her steps even and measured. The diary burned against her ribs. With her heart in her throat, she walked away from Viktor Axenov.
FORTY-TWO
The music thumped, glasses clinked, and bursts of laughter cut through the crowded bar.
Zoe nursed her drink in a corner, shrouded in darkness. She had driven to a bar just outside of Pineview Falls, where she hoped she wouldn’t recognize anyone, and vice versa.
A soft amber glow spilled from the vintage lights lining the walls, illuminating carefree faces.
Faces that laughed and joked and teased and engaged. Faces that lived in the moment. That was how Zoe lived her life. She was chirpy and bubbly. One of her instructors at Quantico had described her as “a meadow on the first day of spring”—full of sheer optimism.
