Trapezoid (The Base)

Chapter 37

Everything was a blur in her brain as Chris made her way to the second floor. The stunt she'd pulled back there with Greenwood's bodyguards had caused additional problems. She abandoned the idea to try and make it to the roof, and took a sharp turn to enter the room meant for maintenance only. Her mind was abuzz, unable to collect déjà vu. She shortened her dress by tucking as much as possible into her belt. She ascended the wall ladder, her "weapon heels" in hand.

She dragged herself into the dark, stuffy-aired space. Exhaling, a cloud of dust came to life to choke her. Voices below—voices filled with determination made her quiet. She straightened to stand on her feet.

"I thought I saw someone come in here."

"Maybe you saw wrong."

Chris held her breath as she listened to the voices below.

"No," said the gruffer voice. "She's somewhere in this vicinity." Heavy steps forward followed. "Maybe she went up using the ladder."

It was time to move. She took careful steps as she walked the roofing joists as if a tightrope. She sensed the body warmth—but it was too late.

"There she is," the man said, his head appearing through the entrance. He lifted his firearm in such liquid motion and fired, missing her by inches. Another bullet exited the barrel and another and another—Chris amazingly dodging each one. She had no idea how, but it was happening. In a small space of time, she aimed her heel at him. It paralyzed his arm—but nothing more. Desperate to keep him from entering, she threw the shoe at him, knocking him on the forehead—but not before a bullet created a hole inches from her foot on the joist.

As she crashed onto the ceiling board, she prayed to be awaking soon from a dream. There was no way the board would hold her weight. Her insides knotted as she fell freely through the air. The hard floor slammed against her back together with another body, shooting pain up her spine and sucking the breath out of her. Her vision blurred, making it hard to comprehend that she'd landed into a commotion.

But even if she did, she wouldn't care the least. All she wanted was an end to it all.

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Chris' tracker was to thank for where Levi stood, singlehandedly trying to fight three of Greenwood's men. He'd made his way past the agents who'd catch them. But he'd passed the agents and stormed in, interrupting them from connecting their devices.

He heard a cracking sound from above him, but it was too late as a weight dropped on his head, knocking him to the ground. To his disadvantage, the weight half-sprawled over him was none other than Christina Hopper herself. He swiped the silky silver material off his face—before a heavy tool crashed against his skull, robbing him of his consciousness.

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It was so cold. Why was it so cold? Levi groaned as pain pounded in his head with the rhythm of his pulse. He could sense he was sitting on a chair. He tried to bring his hands to his blindfolded eyes, but to no avail. His hands were tied behind his back. His fingers sensed the warmth emitting from fingers against his. The steady tapping of footsteps got nearer and nearer, making him alert. Semi-disoriented, knowing he was in some cold room he didn't know, he braced himself.

His head whipped to the side, the blindfold torn from his face. A handsome face, in a sinister grin, was before him. Levi's eyes darkened as the azure eyes locked on his. Bile built in his mouth. What he would do to spit in Greenwood's face!