We entered another elevator, and this time, she pressed the button for the ground level. We descended and when the doors glided open, my heart beat faster as I realized that we were going to have to pass through a reception room. Surely there would be more hunters in there. Now more than ever, I needed to keep Jocelyn under my control. As we reached the double doors, which Jocelyn proceeded to march through, I pressed the metal against her back again as a reminder that I meant business.
Moving further into the reception area, I spotted three women sitting behind the wide desk. Each of them looked up from their computer screens at once.
To my angst, the blonde woman spoke up. “All right, Jocelyn?”
I’d been praying that the receptionists wouldn’t bother to make conversation. As Jocelyn turned to face the woman, I had to work hard to make my stance look natural as I kept my right hand close to her back.
“Yes, thank you,” Jocelyn replied. I winced internally at her uneven voice. I suspected that she was not deliberately trying to give my game away. She was genuinely terrified—as I would be in her position. There probably wasn’t much she could do to control her tone. Which meant that this conversation had to end. Now.
From the slight frown on the blonde woman’s face, I got the chilling suspicion that she had already caught on that something wasn’t quite right. I racked my brain for what I could possibly do to hasten the closure of conversation without making things look even more suspicious.
“Where are you off to with the half-blood?” the woman pressed. My heart palpitated as she stood up from her chair. She began walking toward us.
Oh, God.
I had no choice but to discreetly withdraw my cardigan-clad hand from Jocelyn’s back. At least the gun was small, and I was able to raise my right hand to my chest and insert my left hand into the opening of the cardigan—and around the gun—to make it look like I was simply using the garment as a muffler to keep my hands warm.
Jocelyn cleared her throat.
Don’t fail me now, Jocelyn.
Please, don’t fail me now.
Even though she would be aware now that I had withdrawn the gun from her back, I was still standing behind her, and it would not take much for me to whip it out and fire at her if she took a misstep.
“Just a few tests,” Jocelyn replied, her voice thankfully more steady than before.
“Outside?”
“Yes… To experiment with her temperature sensitivity.”
“Uh-huh…” The blonde woman’s eyes fell on me, glancing briefly at my cardigan-turned-muffler, before she resumed her focus on Jocelyn.
Now go away, nosey woman.
I was ready to let out a sigh of relief when she turned her back on us. But then her left hand shot beneath her top and when she whirled around to face us again, she was holding a thin silver gun, aimed directly at me.
River
Christ, these women are prepared. They were like receptionists-cum-security guards. I never would’ve guessed an innocent-looking receptionist to be hiding a lethal weapon in her cleavage—I guessed their appearance was part of their effectiveness.
I didn’t have time to wonder how exactly she had seen through me—maybe they had caught sight of me accosting Jocelyn via the security cameras after all, or perhaps more likely we just looked so darn suspicious. My stupid cardigan-muffler hadn’t helped at all. These hunters weren’t dumb. They were sharp as knives.
My first instinct was to reach out and grab Jocelyn by the neck. Pulling her back against me, I whipped out my gun and pressed it against her temple. I held her in front of me like a shield and began pulling her toward the exit.
“Stop where you are!” the blonde hunter yelled.
I ignored her and kept moving backward. Jocelyn whimpered beneath my grasp as I dug the barrel of the gun harder against her skin. Although fear coursed through my veins, I maintained steady eye contact with the gun-wielding receptionist. I had to hope that she valued Jocelyn’s life enough to not fire.
I wasn’t far from the door now. Perhaps ten feet. From the corner of my eye, I noticed the other receptionists stand up behind the desk. Before any of them could whip out their own guns from their bosoms—or God knew where else they had them stashed—I hissed, “Don’t move! I will pull the trigger.”
I hurried backward with as much speed as I could without causing Jocelyn to trip. As my back hit against the glass doors, I glanced to my right at the fingerprint scanner. Keeping my gun against Jocelyn with one hand, with the other I reached for her hand and pressed her thumb against the screen.
Come on. Come on!
The doors weren’t opening. In fact, the scanner appeared to be switched off.
Oh no.
I suspected that there must have been a control button for the door behind the desk, and that one of the women had hit it, disabling the exit completely.
I was trapped. And now, perhaps sensing my growing hopelessness, the hunters were becoming more bold. The blonde in front of me began moving closer and the receptionists behind the desk pulled out guns—one had a weapon tucked into the back of her pants, while the other had one stored beneath her shirt like the blonde. Maybe they sensed that I wasn’t going to kill Jocelyn. Maybe they thought that I didn’t have it in me. I felt desperate enough, but they would be right: I couldn’t pull the trigger on Jocelyn. At least, not while the doctor was helpless in my grasp. If she turned around and tried to fight me… that would be another thing.
“Don’t come a step closer!” I called, fighting with all that I had to keep my voice steady. I would’ve shouted, but I didn’t want to make any more noise than we already had.