Chapter 14 - Hunted in the Concrete Labyrinth
Without a second thought, Darra turned and sprinted down the corridor toward the emergency stairwell.
"Hey! Someone's out there!" a voice shouted from behind her.
Heavy footsteps pounded against the floor tiles, closing the distance terrifyingly fast. Darra threw her weight against the heavy steel door of the stairwell, tumbling through just as the archive door banged open. She slammed the door shut, flipped the manual safety lock, and started flying down the concrete steps as fast as her legs could carry her.
Flight after flight.
Her lungs burned, reminding her instantly of that terrible night in the Grand Horizon Hotel. The smoke was missing, but the absolute, suffocating terror was identical.
She reached the ground floor, bursting out into the cavernous underground parking garage. The fluorescent overhead lights flickered in long, buzzing rows. She scanned the rows of parked luxury sedans, searching for her car or any way out.
Suddenly, the heavy metal security shutters at the garage exit ground to a halt, rolling down with a loud, metallic screech.
Locked. They had sealed the exits.
"Running away so soon, Ms. Whitmore?" a cold voice echoed from the shadows near a row of concrete pillars.
Darra spun around, backing up against the side of a black SUV. Out of the darkness stepped Arthur Vance, holding a heavy steel wrench in his right hand, flanked by two burly private security guards in civilian clothes.
"Vance," Darra said, her voice shaking slightly, though she forced herself to stand tall. "You're signing your own death warrant. Aiden will tear this company apart to find me."
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"Aiden is currently across town at a charity gala," Vance smiled smoothly, stepping closer with a predatory gleam in his eyes. "By the time he realizes you're missing, your body will be found in the harbor, wrapped up as a tragic casualty of a corporate robbery gone wrong."
Darra’s eyes darted around the garage, looking for any possible escape route. Her hand brushed against her jacket pocket. Her phone was gone—it must have fallen out when she dropped her pen. She was completely cut off, isolated in the concrete belly of the beast.
