Page 117 of Convict's Game

She clutched the file box tight to her chest, and I reached for my knife, holding it low to my thigh.

“Mask up,” I ordered.

Both of us covered our lower faces with the skeleton crew bandannas we’d already tied around our necks. We moved to the door then checked the empty hallway before scurrying out, the sound of our steps muffled by the cheap office carpet.

Behind us, the clank came again, closer this time, metal on metal. A dragging sound. Instinct told me it came from the floor below.

The air changed. Heavy. Electric.

Mila made a small sound of fear.

“Don’t run,” I whispered. “Not yet. Am I right that there’s a fire exit this way?”

Like any good thief, I’d noted it from outside when we’d approached the place.

Her reply was barely audible. “It runs down the east side of the building.”

“Get us there.”

She led me down the hall in the opposite direction from where we’d come in. If someone had entered behind us, they’d likely expect us to double back. My bet was Mila knew the building better than anyone.

Another sound chased us. Footsteps. Not rushed. Steady. As if the owner knew they didn’t need to hurry.

Mila’s breath caught. “Can we run now?”

I reached back and threaded my fingers through hers, pulling her into a jog. Down the corridor, we slipped past abandoned cubicles and a toppled desk chair, my grip tight around the knife hilt.

“Stairs.” She pointed.

We rounded a corner and burst through a door into the stairwell, the light above flickering once before dying.

A soft click chased us. The unmistakable sound of someone entering from the floor beneath us.

I didn’t hesitate to peer into the dark. I dragged Mila up. Higher, towards the roof.

The footsteps followed. Not stopping. Getting closer.

We burst onto the roof with a slam of metal on brick. Wind caught Mila’s hair, and she let out a shuddering breath. Behind us, the door slapped closed.

“There.” She pointed to a caged ladder on the side.

We sprinted over, and I hauled open the cage door and peered down. Just a zigzag of ladders and platforms that dropped down the side of the building. Easy.

I helped Mila onto it, holding the file box under one arm so she could climb more easily. I followed, fast, grasping the wetmetal rung, and just in time to see the figure emerge from the roof stairwell. Black-clad, material hiding their face. Not all that tall, but it could’ve been the angle.

As I stared at them, they didn’t follow. Just watched.

Whatever, weirdo.

We descended in a hurry, rattling down each floor then fleeing to the alley behind the building, our breath fogging in the cold.

Mila took back the files and held them tight, her eyes wild on our jog back to the car. “Did you see them? They just stood and stared. Was it security?”

I scanned the dark street for backup or any signs of pursuit. “Security wouldn’t cover their faces. I don’t know who it was, but they weren’t trying to catch us. Just scare us.”

“Creepy bastard.”

I didn’t answer. But the way my skin crawled told me one thing for sure. Whatever we just took, someone else had been after it.