The faucet runs inside the bathroom, which is on the left side of the room's entrance. The connecting door is shut, so I hurry past, my heart beating in my throat.

As the door handle scrapes open, I race behind the single, king-sized bed stretching across the center of the room. I duck down, taking deep breaths in from my nose. Footsteps pad toward the desk, and I glimpse the top of a man's head, covered in frizzy, closely-cropped black hair.

My veins pulse under my skin, thrumming with blood and adrenaline. I shift my gaze from the man to the floor, where a suitcase sits a few paces away from me. All I have to do is gather a couple shirts from it, stuff them inside my trench coat pockets, and then get out before he sees me.

Papers shuffle on the desk. I peer over my shoulder again as he rifles through a notebook and some cards, placing several inside a brown-leather briefcase. Several minutes tick by on the clock, right above my head on the bedside table. Finally, he tosses a stack of envelopes on the table.

He steps toward me, though he still faces the desk. My heart is pounding. I can scarcely move or breathe, terrified that he'll turn around at the slight sound. His body turns part way. If his head rotates any further, I'm certain he'll see me in his peripheral. A jolt of fear shocks my limbs into stillness. I feel numb. Aside from the steady thump, thump, thump in my ears, the room is silent.

He turns, and my fear spikes again. But he isn't headed in my direction. He walks past the bed. When I dare to peek over the comforter pulled neatly over the top, I see the man headed for the closet.

Now's my chance. I crawl to the suitcase. My hands shake as I ease the zipper open. I go one tooth at a time, pressing the zipper slowly back so it doesn't make a sound. The top unseals enough for me to reach my hand inside.

I feel around until I find something that resembles plastic buttons. I pull the clothing article out. Sure enough, it's a cotton button-down. I fold the shirt up and shove it inside my coat pocket.

Should I grab another one?

I glance over my shoulder again. The man is turning around inside the closet, removing a suit jacket from inside. I duck down again, deciding it isn't worth it.

I just need to focus on getting out.

It's bad enough that I have one bulging pocket. But two? That'd be a walking red flag when I'm trying to leave the hotel.

I crawl around the side of the bed, when the man doubles back, headed back in my direction. I scurry backward, pressing my back to the skirt overhanging the bed. He fiddles with something on the desk before walking away again.

My lips press together. If I could be sure that he wouldn't find me, I'd be content to wait this out. But all it takes is for him to glance one time in my direction. There's no place for me to completely conceal myself.

My best bet is to try to sneak out the next his back turned away from the door. But even that's risky.

While I debate what to do, a shadow falls over the top of me. My head cranes up to see the man's head looming over the bed. Slowly, he draws a gun from his pocket and points it at my head.

"What are you doing here?"

"I-I was a friend of Daniel. I was just looking for him."

"How'd you get in?"

"He gave me the spare key to his room."

The man arches an eyebrow. "There's only one spare key, and he gave it to me."

I shrug. "I don't know what to say. But he definitely gave me a spare key. How else would I have gotten in?"

The man narrows his eyes. "I'm sure there are ways. How did you know Daniel?"

"I worked with him."

"Doing what?"

I quickly search my memory for something I could tell him. My mind flashes back to looking through his wallet. There was a card in there that said "Wilden Publishing House."

"In... publishing."

"Which company?"

"Wilden."

"Oh. I see." The man crawls off the bed and circles around, gun still in hand. "Did you know that Wilden Publishing doesn't exist?"

Shoot. I'm caught. My mind spins, trying to find a way out of this lie. Is it possible to convince him that it is a real place? Surely he can't know the name of every publishing house in the states.

"I didn't, actually," I say. "I mean, I've only been working there for the past five years."

The man shifts his stance. "Really?" He grunts. "What's your job?"

"I'm a... cover designer."

"Interesting. I'll have to give them a call later to check out your story."

My brow twitches. "I... thought you didn't believe it existed."

He grins. "Oh, right. I guess I just forgot."

So it does exist? I'm so confused.

"It seems rather unprofessional for Daniel to give a fellow coworker the key to his hotel room, wouldn't you agree?" the man says. "Especially considering that it's three in the morning."

"That's what I told him, but he said it'd be easier. He didn't want to be seen in public all too often for some reason." I force a chuckle. "I have no idea why."

Hopefully, he'll think that I'm alluding to Daniel's role in the order. I imagine he doesn't like to be seen too often considering that he's involved in a top secret operation.

The man slowly nods, contemplating my words. "What's your name?"

"Mary."

"Last name?"

"Smith... ers..." I want to facepalm. Really? You couldn't have come up with anything better?

"Mary Smithers?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Mary is spelled with an 'i' at the end."

"Ah. I see. So, Mari, if you're supposed to be having a totally legitimate meeting with Daniel, why are you hiding on the ground?"

I swallow. "Well... I got kind of scared when I came in and he wasn't here. And then when I realized someone else was in the room..."

"You decided to open his suitcase and shove something from it into your pocket? Really, Mari, you're just digging a deeper hole for yourself."

"Look." I clasp my forehead. "Clearly there's a misunderstanding if Daniel isn't here. I'll just be leaving and come back when he's around." I stand up, but the man takes a step closer, aiming the gun at my chest.

"You're correct: you will be leaving. There's a black sedan parked out front. Now, I'm going to follow you downstairs with my gun in my pocket." He sticks the gun inside his pocket with the barrel poking out just enough for me to make out its shape against the blazer's navy material. "If you try to run or head for any other car in the parking lot, I won't hesitate to shoot."

I gulp and nod. He flicks the gun's barrel at the door, and I exit the room. As I stroll through the hallway, passing a guest or two, I try to make eye contact, hoping to impress on them how dire my situation is. No one gives me a second glance.

Another woman stands at the elevator, clutching two hands around a leather clutch. I stand beside her. She flashes me a quick smile before the doors part and we step inside. A seed of hope sprouts in my chest. All the doors have to do is close before the man with the gun comes here, and then I can get help.

The doors remain wide open. I scream at them to close, but they don't budge.

Come on! Close!

An eternity passes before the metal doors release at the sides, inching together. At the last moment, a man appears between the gap.

"Oh!" The woman presses the doors apart button, and the door opens again. My heart plummets.

So much for getting help from her.

The man slips in beside me. He smirks down at me, pressing the ground floor button.

As the floor lowers, I give up on trying to catch the woman's attention. Her long eyelashes are lowered onto her clutch, and she doesn't raise them for a moment.

I exit the elevator and walk through the lobby. Outside, a cool breeze whips through my hair. I scan the parking lot for the black sedan the man told me to get into. Though it's still dark outside, my eyes first latch onto the car Tabitha rented for us, a blue SUV parked in the second row of cars. My eyes drift between the various colored and sized cars until I spot the black sedan parked in the last space in front of the hotel. I start toward it, all the while glancing back at Tabitha's car. Maybe she'll spot me and come to my aid.

Or maybe she'll think that I'm trying to escape and kill me. Anxiety swells once more inside me. It's a lose-lose situation. Everything I've done so far to ensure my survival means nothing.

At last, I stand before the vehicle. Footsteps click behind me on the pavement, slow and measured. Each one spikes my heart rate a little more.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

Casting one more look over my shoulder in Tabitha's direction, I step toward the door.

"Open the backseat," a voice growls behind me. "And get inside."

My fingers curl under the door's latch and pull the door open. An arm falls outside the car, followed by a body.

A shriek pierces the night. It came from me, I realize. A woman is slumped over, head and body pressed against the door, which is the only thing keeping it from falling onto the ground. Her face is an icy white color, and she has two small eyes that are cracked open, her pupils staring at me with a deadened expression. Blood leaks from the side of her head and trickles down to her ear, staining the fine blonde hairs in its path red.

Trembling, I step away from the vehicle.

"What's going on he—"

A muted gunshot breaks the air. The man yelps, but before I can run, an arm wraps around my throat, holding me in a choke hold. Cold metal presses to my temple.

"Who's... there?" he grunts.

Only the breeze responds, joining the rush of blood in my ears.

"Show yourself. I will shoot your lackey," the man says.

He hauls me back onto the curb. Tears slip down my cheeks. All I feel is overwhelming terror shuddering through every fiber inside me. My blurred view sweeps over several cars, and I notice a shadow creeping among the nearby vehicles.

The man drags me backward. But after three steps, there's a 'whack,' and the man grunts. His grip falls away as does the gun. I whirl around to see Tabitha standing over him. She aims a gun at the man's chest and fires. A dark stain pools on his suit jacket. At least the night's darkness hides most of the gore.

"Do you have the shirt?" Tabitha asks. I think I nod in response, but I'm not entirely sure. My entire body trembles. "Good. Let's retreat to the hotel." Her heels quickly click away as she retreats to the SUV. Numbly, I follow.