She gets up and grabs her purse, and then she’s gone, locking the door behind her.
I try to take a sip of my tea, but my hands are shaking so bad I’m spilling. It’s a wonder that I hit that guy at all last night. And yet the moment I saw that Blaise was about to die under his hands, I knew what to do. All fear went away. I pointed the gun, and I pulled the trigger, and even though my soul is warring with me over potentially taking someone’s life, I also know that I had no choice. Blaise did what he could to save me, and I did all I could to save him.
For now, it’s worked.
I get up, shaking my arms out, trying to calm my racing heart, and go over to the window, looking out.
I spot Marie leaving the apartment.
Just as two large men dressed in matching black suits push past her, catching the door before it has a chance to close.
I know beyond a doubt that those two men are coming for me.
Marie knows it too. She looks up at the window and sees me staring down at her. Even though I’m on the fourth floor, I can see the fear in her eyes, the realization that I was telling the truth. Then the determination to help me.
She goes into the building after them.
Oh God.
I run away from the window and over to the door. They’re going to reach me before she does, unless she passes them on the stairs. Do they know who she is, what she looks like? Do they know she’s my friend?
I don’t know what to do. Barricade the door? Wait for her? How do I know who is out there?
Shit, shit, shit.
Panicking, I look around the apartment. It’s small and tidy, with Marie’s minimalist style. The only thing I can see to help would be the bookcase full of books that her TV sits on top of.
I quickly pick the TV off and start pulling the bookcase away from the wall. It’s heavy, but that’s what I need. I push it across the floor, wincing, as I know the bookcase is making deep scratches in her beloved hardwood.
I push it up against the door, using all my strength, and then hold it there, waiting.
I hear footsteps coming down the hall outside. Heavy and echoing.
Oh fuck.
They’re getting here before Marie.
The footsteps stop outside the door.
I suck in my breath.
Someone knocks on the door.
Loud.
I don’t say a word.
Now someone bangs on the door.
“Hello?” a deep voice asks.
“Shoot the lock off,” another voice says.
Shit.
Shit!
I glance at the lock and slowly move out of the way in case a bullet comes flying at me.
The floorboards creak loudly under my feet.
I freeze.
“Did you hear that?” the deep voice asks. “Someone’s in there.”
There’s a pause, and I know they’re getting ready to either smash down the door or shoot their way through it, and either way, I’m dead. I’m dead.
Then . . .
“FIRE!”
Marie’s muffled voice screams through the apartment building, and before I can figure out where she is or what she’s doing, the fire alarm goes off.
It’s so loud that it makes me jump. It vibrates through the whole apartment.
“Fuck!” one of the men outside yells, and then everything explodes into chaos as people start screaming and doors start opening, and I can tell from the shouts and the stampede of feet that people are rushing out of their apartments, trying to figure out what’s going on.
“Come on, there’s a fire!” someone yells, and I know they’re talking to the men. “Get moving!”
“There’s someone in this apartment,” one man says.
“No, there isn’t; Marie would be at work,” the neighbor says, sounding suspicious. “Who are you again? Do you live here? I’ve never seen you around, and I remember every face.”
God bless that neighbor for questioning them, because I hear their footsteps fall away, and when I take a chance and lean up over the bookcase to look out the peephole, I can see the two men going down the hall, the neighbor—an older woman—following them like an escort.
Now I know there’s no fire, that this was a clever diversion by Marie.
I run to my phone and see a million texts from Blaise and a few missed calls since it’s been charging. My heart leaps into my throat, thinking something has happened to him, until I see the last text.
Get out of there! There are men coming for you.
Are you okay? Please answer me.
I’m heading to Marie’s.
I breathe out a sigh of relief and lean back against the wall.
He’s alive. He’s okay.
He’s coming to get me.
I can only hope that the men have dispersed, especially as the police and fire trucks show up. I can hear their sirens beyond the shrill noise of the fire alarm.
I can also hear someone knocking at Marie’s door.
My heart skips a beat.
“Seraphine!” Marie yells from the other side.
Thank God.
I look through the peephole to make sure she’s alone.
With what strength I have left, I push the bookcase to the side and open the door.
She rushes inside, locking it behind her, and immediately pulls me into a hug.
“Are you okay?” she cries out.
I nod. “Did you pull the alarm? That was genius.”
“I didn’t know what else to do. God, Seraphine. Those men. They were after you, I know it.”
“I know it, too, they wouldn’t leave either. One of your neighbors practically scolded them.”
“Madame Langlois. About time her nosiness became a blessing.” She heads over to the window and peers out. “I don’t see them out there, but the fire trucks have arrived. They’re going to come through the building.”
“Then I think we’re going to have to get an escort out. Blaise is on his way.”
I bring out my phone and quickly text Blaise back. I’m okay. Marie pulled the fire alarm. We have to leave the building and I’m not sure if the men are still there or not.
He responds immediately. Okay. I’ll come by with an Uber and you guys get in right away. Is there a back entrance to the building?
I look at Marie. “Is there another way out of here?”
“There’s an emergency entrance, but the fire alarm sounds when you open it.”
I give her a wry look, since the alarm is already going off. “Then they probably went out that way. I don’t think they’re going to risk being seen by going out the front, not with the cops and firefighters showing up.”
“You’re right,” she says. “I think I hear the firemen now.”
She goes to look through the peephole, and I text Blaise back.
We’re going out the front. It’s safer in a crowd. We’ll get a fireman escort. See you soon.
Marie opens the door to two firefighters in their gear, staring at us. “Are you okay?” one asks.
“We panicked,” Marie says. “We didn’t know where the fire was.”
“So far we can’t find any sign of one,” he says.
“We’re still scared. Can one of you escort us through the building?”
“I will,” the other firefighter volunteers. He’s younger and has an appreciative look on his face as he looks Marie over.
Whatever. We just need to get moving.