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My goal was to get someone who had the emergency passcode to the elevator. When I first escaped, the building went on immediate lockdown. I tried to get a guard to open the elevator for me, but he didn’t have the bypass code. Apparently, it was something only a DuPont had access to.
I just had to find another way.
My heart was pounding in my chest as I began to hear gunshots, screams and shouts.
“She went that way!”
I kept running and was thankful that I was running in the direction of the staircase that I’d seen when going to the training room every day. I didn’t know if it led anywhere, but I certainly wasn’t going to wait around here like a sitting duck.
I heard a door open behind me and stopped running, sliding to a halt and taking a few deep breaths.
My heart beat once.
Twice.
Three times.
Boots scurried away from me, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
I had to steady myself and prepare myself before I took another step. I could see far enough to know that the staircase was empty. I sighed in relief. I took a deep breath and gripped the gun in my hand. I could feel its weight and the smoothness of the handle.
I was safe for the moment, but that wouldn’t last long.
I could feel the cool air against my warm skin. My muscles twitched on the trigger, my fingers playing out their death dance.
I took one step and then another. The air in DuPont tower smelled of wealth and luxury, but was tinged by the smell of gunpowder and burning. The carpeted staircase led down to a black marble floor. A grand crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, filling the space with a rainbow glow. The corridor was all white and gold, a luxurious and expensive aesthetic.
I looked around, my ears straining to detect any sound.
I could see a pair of red-tipped shoes sticking out from behind a gold statue. I took a step closer, seeing a designer silk skirt and hands that clutched at a white blouse. The eyes that stared up at me were wide and full of fear.
“D-don’t hurt me,” she whispered, her voice choked and strained.
“Elizabeth?” I said. Elizabeth looked like a frightened deer. Her eyes were wide and terrified. She was shaking and her hands were held up in a submissive pose, as if she were pleading for mercy. Her clothes were disheveled and haphazard, pulled on in a hurry. For someone who raised her son to take on a criminal empire, she sure seemed frightened, as if she wasn’t used to the sound of guns going off and men gasping for their last breath.
I knelt down beside her, feeling her body trembling as I listened to the sound of boots approaching. There was a large, long wooden desk that sat before the entrance to the grand dining room, so I dragged her behind it.
“Don’t make a sound,” I whispered while aiming the gun at her. I was embarrassed and ashamed to use her this way, but I was still in the DuPont penthouse and I needed elevator access to get to the ground floor and get out of here.
She nodded, her face blotchy with tears as I hid us from the men who were running down the hallway. I leaned over her, checking to make sure that they hadn’t seen us. There were two men in gray uniforms, with black bulletproof vests, both boldly wearing the family crest of DuPont printed on the chest.
“Why are you doing this? My Atticus loves you.” Elizabeth was wearing a light floral perfume. Her fear was like a sharp blade in my nostrils; I could feel the shape of it, smell its caustic odor.
I eyed her. The truth was, I loved him too. But I was tired of men locking me up and telling me what to do, and I definitely didn’t trust Theodore. I’d caught him lingering in the training room. Regardless of my feelings for Atticus at the moment, his father couldn’t be trusted. I wasn’t going to stay here any longer.
“Shhh,” I hissed, my head on a swivel. The men started running down the hall.
“I just don’t understand,” she cried.
I looked at her, feeling sorry. In a brief moment, I allowed myself to think that I could have been Elizabeth. If I hadn’t fought for my life. Terrified of the world. Controlled by a powerful man claiming to love me. If I allowed everyone to dictate my life, then I’d end up just like her. Kind. Complacent. Obedient.
Atticus claimed to love my monsters, but his actions proved otherwise. I was ready to prove him wrong. I grabbed her arm.
Atticus’s mother’s voice was choked, tears staining her face. “Don’t hurt me.”
“Take me to the elevator. You’re going to let me leave, and I won’t hurt you.” I softened my tone. “I don’t want to hurt you, Mrs. DuPont. But I need to leave.”
“Okay,” she hiccupped. “But don’t you think you should talk to Atticus? Where will you go? What will you do?”
