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Her attacker knelt beside her, knees popping in the quiet. Thin fingers grabbed his forgotten knife and her palm. The device lit up as the stranger touched the screen. Lila did not dare to turn around and catch the assailant’s face. The risk wasn’t worth it.
No one could break into her palm, anyway. If the code wasn’t entered correctly, the palm would wipe.
The thief only had two tries to get it right.
Oh gods, what if her attacker tortured her for the code?
She was going to die in a parking garage in East New Bristol. Beaten up like an animal, with her hands tied behind her back.
Clothes rustled as her attacker stood up and moved back to the car, opening the back door.
Rugs landed with a splat beside her, kicking dust and dirt into her eyes.
The figure moved on.
More rugs hit the ground beside her, along with moldings, a map, and insurance information from the glove compartment. A soda can bounced against the concrete. Two armrests hit the ground next, followed by the car’s radio. It broke apart and clattered on the ground after a quick inspection.
Lila turned her head, watching her attacker search.
Was this theft? Was it a carjacking? Was it something else?
She had to get out. She’d be damned if she’d be raped or killed.
She might not be able to fight, but she could run.
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Curling her knees, she rolled into the fetal position. The next time her attacker dug deep inside her car, she flipped onto her knees and hopped to her feet.
Then she ran.
Hard.
Struggling to maintain her balance, she sprinted with her hands tied behind her back, ignoring the curses behind her, the pumping boots, the heavy breathing, the click of a gun. She darted down the garage’s first-floor ramp as fast as she could, breathing as quickly as possible through her nose, trying not to cry. If she cried, her nose would stuff up and she wouldn’t be able to breathe. Not with duct tape covering her mouth.
A black car turned at the street corner, its lights flashing across their faces like a searchlight.
Lila ran harder, squeezing her eyes shut as the light swiveled across the garage’s exit, relying on her memory and the feel of the concrete under her boots to tell her where she’d gone.
She didn’t open her eyes until the headlights had passed.
Unlike her attacker, the car had not blinded her.
Another stream of curses rang out behind her.
A gunshot followed. A real shot, not a tranq. It rang against the concrete, turning a chunk to dust near her head. Another hit landed behind her as she ran down the next street.
Thank the gods the thief had fired. Tristan’s people would investigate the noise.
Lila sprinted faster, knowing exactly where they would come from.
Like clockwork, half the night guard turned the corner, sprinting toward her with their tranq guns aiming at her neck. She called out through the tape, her shouts muffled.
The tranqs swung to the figure behind her.
Lila spun, squinting at the shadow.
A mask covered her pursuer’s face.
