“He locked me out,” I whispered, tears finally burning my eyes. “He left me to freeze.”
“Because you talked back to Chloe,” Mara said. “Chloe is the real power here. Nathan is a coward who does what she says. If Chloe thinks you’re becoming a liability, she will order Nathan to eliminate you. The balcony wasn’t a punishment, Clara. It was a test. They wanted to see if you would break, or if they needed to make your death look like an accident.”
A cold dread washed over me. “But he’s in jail. I had him arrested.”
A sharp gasp came from Mara’s end of the line. “You did what?”
“I called the police. They took him.”
“Oh my god,” Mara breathed, her voice filled with sheer panic. “Clara, you don’t understand. Chloe has judges on the payroll. Nathan won’t be in jail for more than a few hours. And the moment he gets out, the corporate investors will realize the nexus is compromised. They will clean house. They will kill me, and they will kill you.”
“What do I do?” I panicked, looking around the empty apartment. Every shadow suddenly looked like a threat.
“Get out of the apartment. Now. There is a safety deposit box at the Capital First Bank on Wilson Boulevard. Box 408. The key is taped to the bottom of Nathan’s desk drawer. Inside is the original encryption drive for Aegis Defense. If you get that drive, you have leverage. Meet me at the Greyhound station on Fourteenth Street in two hours. Do not call the police again. Chloe owns them.”
The line went dead.
The Escape
My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I dropped to my knees, reaching under the heavy mahogany desk drawer. My fingers scraped against the rough wood until they hit metal. A small, silver key taped to the underside.
I ripped it off, grabbed my purse, threw on my heaviest winter coat, and ran out the door.
The cold air of the Arlington morning hit me like a slap to the face as I rushed onto the street. I didn’t take my car; Nathan had a tracker on it. Instead, I hailed a yellow cab, my eyes constantly darting to the rearview mirror, expecting to see Nathan’s black SUV tailing us.
The bank was crowded. I practically ran to the vault desk, presenting my ID and the key. Because Nathan had added me to his general banking profile when we married, the clerk smiled warmly and led me into the private, reinforced vault room.
“Take your time, Mrs. Reed,” she said, sliding Box 408 onto the table and walking out.
With trembling hands, I inserted the key and turned it. The heavy metal lid clicked open.
Inside was exactly what Mara had said: a heavy, military-grade black flash drive. But next to it lay something else.
A burner phone. And it was vibrating.
The screen displayed a single text message from an unknown number. I picked it up and opened it.
I see you, Clara.
My breath hitched. I looked up at the security camera in the corner of the vault room. The tiny red light was blinking.
Suddenly, my own phone rang. It was an automated notification from my home security app.
Front Door: Unlocked at 9:42 a.m.
Nathan was out. He was already home.
The Trap Snaps
Panic, cold and sharp, flooded my veins. I shoved the flash drive and the burner phone into my coat pocket, slammed the safety deposit box shut, and rushed out of the vault. I sprinted past the startled bank teller and burst through the glass doors onto the bustling street.
The wind howled down Wilson Boulevard, kicking up flurries of fresh snow. I needed to get to the Greyhound station. I needed to find Mara.
I ran toward the Metro station, pushing through the crowds of commuters. As I descended the escalator into the underground warmth, the burner phone in my pocket buzzed again. Another text.
Don’t bother running to Mara. She belongs to us.
I stopped dead at the bottom of the escalator. My eyes scanned the crowded platform. Hundreds of faces, all blurred together.
Then, my personal phone rang. It was Nathan.
I shouldn’t have answered it. I should have thrown it on the tracks. But my thumb swiped the screen on pure adrenaline. “Nathan, stay away from me!”
“Clara,” his voice was smooth, completely devoid of the panic he had shown during his arrest. It was chillingly calm. “You really should have stayed on the balcony. It would have been much less painful.”
“I have the drive, Nathan,” I spat, trying to sound brave, trying to find a weapon in my words. “I know about Aegis. I know about Mara. If you come near me, I’ll send it to the feds.”
Nathan let out a low, dark chuckle that sent shivers down my spine. “The feds? Who do you think bought the drive for us in the first place, sweetheart? Turn around.”
My stomach dropped into a bottomless pit.
Slowly, carefully, I turned around on the crowded subway platform.
Standing twenty feet away, flanked by two men in dark overcoats, was Nathan. His jaw was set, his eyes completely dead. But he wasn’t looking at me with rage. He was looking at me with a sickening, triumphant smile.
And next to him, her arm tightly gripped by one of the men, was a woman with dark hair, her face pale with terror.
Mara.
But as my eyes darted between Nathan and Mara, a third figure stepped out from behind the concrete pillar.
It wasn’t Chloe.
It was Officer Vance, the policeman who had “rescued” me from the balcony just hours ago. He was holding a pair of heavy zip-ties, and his badge was nowhere to be seen.
“End of the line, Clara,” Nathan said into the phone, his voice echoing both through the speaker and across the subterranean station. “Give us the drive, or Mara dies right here on the tracks. And you’ll be joining her.”
The subway lights began to flicker as the heavy roar of an oncoming train echoed through the tunnel.
