Page 6 of My Dark Ever After

I threw myself low to the left, catching my balance on the wall before taking off into a sprint down the other corridor. There weretwo curses in Italian behind me, but I was too busy running for my life to translate what they yelled at each other as one or both of them came after me.

Our offices were laid out in an oval connected by a continuous hall. At one end were the elevators and the reception desk and at the other, a flight of staircases under an emergency exit. It was there that I ran, kicking off my heels so I could pound down the carpeted floor with better traction.

“I will shoot,” the man behind me panted.

Because of the curve of the hallway, I didn’t think he had a good shot at me, especially when I hugged the wall as I thrust forward. As if to test my theory, a shot blasted through the air, loud enough to ring my bell. The bullet embedded in the wall to my left, too wide.

He couldn’t get the shot off unless he got closer.

The red light of the emergency exit had never looked so welcoming. I crashed through the door and stared down the stairs, hoping to get at least a level between us before he entered the stairwell too.

I thanked God that I had started to take my physical fitness more seriously since returning home. Only the hours I’d spent at the gym and the dojo propelled my slight frame forward faster than the tall, athletic man on my heels.

I could hear the metallic bang of the door hitting the concrete wall as he blasted through it, steps clapping against the stairs as he raced after me.

But I didn’t look back.

Fear wasn’t a noose around my throat but the wind at my back, forcing me forward with a clarity of purpose that eradicated my panic.

I had to get away.

There was no other option.

I hadn’t fought so hard to get to twenty-three years old only to die because of some goon with a gun who was coming after me for God knew what.

If I could just get to the lobby and the night security guard, I had a chance of getting away.

Another shot rang out, a thunderous boom in the echo chamber of the stairwell and a click as the bullet ricocheted off the banister.

I pushed hard, the taste of metal on the back of my tongue like my lungs were working so hard they were bleeding.

Eleventh floor.

Tenth.

Ninth.

I was gaining distance on him.

He was in a suit and slick-soled shoes, trying to maneuver his big body around the tight turns of the staircase.

I was barefoot in wide-legged wool trousers, with a slight enough frame to let gravity do half the work in throwing me down the stairs, even with the heavy bag banging against my hip.

Seventh.

Sixth.

Fifth.

My breath was a harsh expletive. My pulse roared in my ears.

Another shot rang out.

Pain like the bite of a horsefly stung against the side of my head.

I blinked away the smarting tears of pain, but a few steps later I slipped in something and looked down to see splatters and smears of blood from where I’d stepped in it.

The blood was mine.