70. Now
SEVENTY
now
Getting out of Grayson’s building and back to Brooklyn feels like being in a horror movie. One where a menacing psychopath nips at my heels, brandishing a blade.
I take a cab, hoping to blend into the crush of city traffic. My eyes fly from one window to another, constantly looking for one particular face.
When I roll up to my apartment, I toss all the money I have at the driver and streak upstairs, dying to get to Maggie as quickly as possible.
I have to tell her everything. I need help. The police, probably. And, whatever I do, I have to keep it all away from Grayson and his company.
Bouncing in place, I undo all three locks on our door and burst into the living room, spinning to re-latch them all immediately, including the chain we don’t use. As soon as I realize I’m safe, my adrenaline rush recedes. For the third time in as many days, my legs turn to water. I fall to my knees.
Behind me, Maggie’s door creaks open. Or maybe it’s mine?
Maggie’s door doesn’t usually squeak like ? —
I spin on my knees. The edges of my vision fade to black.
“So glad you could join me, little princess.”
Daniel’s steps eat up the distance between us. “I’ve been waiting for you. ”