Chapter Eighteen
Savannah shut down the system for the night and rubbed her stiff neck.
Stratos had gone home hours ago. She’d been wrapping things up, intending to leave herself, when Frysta called a mandatory early morning meeting and demanded a full report on the status of each of his pending projects in advance.
She stayed to compile the report so he could review it first thing in the morning before she sent it.
He didn’t deserve her dedication. He wouldn’t appreciate it.
That she’d gone above and beyond the call of duty wouldn’t receive a word of recognition.
He’d ceased saying thank you, please, and good morning.
He avoided eye contact and conversation.
If he wanted something, rather than ask face-to-face, he messaged her.
He came and went without informing her where he was going.
Then people contacted him, and she had no idea where to find him or when he would return.
Several times this past month, he’d not uttered a single word to her all day. Not one.
He’d kissed her, and now, he treated her like a pariah.
Well, fine! He could get his own damn kaffii and nuknuk. Even though she drank her morning kaffii with a dose of satisfaction, her nerves grew taut with tension. One of these days, she would snap—and it wouldn’t be pretty.
Which made it incomprehensible why she bothered to stay late to prepare a stupid report for him. He didn’t deserve that she went the extra mile. If he was fighting for control of the company, it had nothing to do with her. Just a temp, she’d be long gone before control changed hands.
The only respite from the stress came from the lunches with Brad.
She had to don a happy mask instead of the I’d-like-to-kill-my-boss face, but she was done eating at her desk.
She was entitled to a real lunch break! Now that Brad had gotten the job with R only a few vehicles flashed overhead.
It’s later than I thought. She picked up the pace and hurried toward her apartment.
She’d missed dinner, but she wasn’t hungry. She longed to fall into bed and forget the day; morning would come too soon. Despite her late night, there’d be no sleep-in tomorrow.
Hisssss. Hisssss.
Scarcely had the sound registered when something whipped out of the alley, wrapped around her wrist, and yanked her off her feet.
She screamed, clawing at the ground, as she was dragged into the alley. The band seared her wrist, and she grabbed the slimy tongue-like filament to try to free herself, crying out as she burned her palm. “Help! Help!”
And then she came face-to-face with a hideous creature.
Looming over her, it resembled a huge tarantula—as big as a Saint Bernard, but with a shockingly humanoid face.
It loomed over her and licked its lips. “No!” She struck out with her free arm, swinging hard, swinging with every ounce of strength. It tittered, relishing her struggle.
Her flailing arm struck the ground, and she felt something roll, a metal shaft of some sort.
She grabbed it, reared up, and drove it into the creature’s eye.
It squealed but didn’t release her wrist, so she dug it deeper and stirred it around.
The creature screamed. She yanked her wrist free, leaped to her feet, and tore out of the alley.
She didn’t stop running until she reached her building and fell into the propulsion lift. Shaking, she stumbled to her apartment, collapsed on the sofa, and began to sob.
“Savannah, what is wrong?”
“I-I-I, I was—I was—” She couldn’t get the words out. “I-I—attacked.”
She hugged herself, rocking on the sofa, trying not to touch anything. Her red, swollen hands were on fire, her wrist and palm blistered. “I th-think I need med-medical help.” She had no idea where to find a hospital or how she’d get there.
“May I scan you to determine the help you need?” Aaia said.
She couldn’t stop crying. “Y-y-es.” What the hell was that? How long had it been there? She walked that way every single day. She looked at her injured wrist and palm. They were coated with burning slime. I’ve got to get this off me.
“Help is on the way,” Aaia said.
“Thank you,” she said, getting to her feet and heading for the bathroom.
“Where are you going?”
“B-b-bathroom. To rinse my hands.”
“That is not advisable. The substance must be analyzed so you can be treated. A medic will be here shortly.”
Oh, god! Can I last that long?