Page 10 of Crown Of Blood

You should’ve stayed quiet.

No signature.

I lock the screen fast, throat tight.

“Isa?” Casey’s voice pulls me back. “Do you want me to drive you home?”

“No,” I say automatically. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“I will be.”

She hesitates, but she knows arguing is useless. She squeezes my arm, whispers, “Call me if anything feels off,” and goes back to her desk.

I try to keep working, but my brain won’t stop replaying every step I took last night. Who saw me leave? Who took that photo?

By six, I’ve had enough. I shove my notes into my bag and head for the exit, ignoring the way conversations hush as I pass.

Outside, the sky’s heavy with twilight, the air damp and metallic. I keep my head down, headphones in, but no music playing—just a trick I learned after one too many threats. If something happens, I want to hear it.

Halfway down the block, a car engine revs behind me.

Normal. Just traffic.

Another rev. Louder. Closer.

I glance over my shoulder. Black sedan. Same as before.

My heart jumps into my throat. I quicken my pace, crossing to the other side of the street. The sedan matches me.

Don’t run. Not yet.

The traffic light ahead turns red, trapping me on the corner. The sedan slows beside the curb. The passenger window rolls down just enough for a gloved hand to appear—metal flashing under the streetlight.

Gun.

Instinct takes over. I dive behind a parked car as the first shot shatters the air. The world explodes into sound—screams, glass, the high-pitched wail of a car alarm—another shot. Sparks fly off the metal inches from my shoulder.

“Get down!” someone yells from across the street.

I crawl between cars, adrenaline roaring in my ears. The sedan peels off, tires screeching as it disappears into the night.

I stay there, crouched, shaking, until the ringing in my ears fades enough to hear sirens.

A cop kneels beside me minutes later. “You okay, ma’am?”

“I—yeah, I think so.” My voice barely works.

“Did you see who it was?”

“No. Just the car.”

He scribbles something in his notepad. “You’re lucky. Looks like they missed on purpose.”

“On purpose?”

He shrugs. “Could’ve been a warning.”