"Keep moving," Christian grunts, pushing the muzzle of his hand gun farther into my spine.

    The feeling makes me to arch my back in an attempt of escape, causing me to stumble up the stairs. My left foot crosses over to my right, and comes down on my right shoe lace, causing it to trail across the ground. I wince in preparation for a face plant when a firm grip circles around my waist. I can feel Christian's  presence behind me, his breath just barely brushing past my ear. My eyes widen at the cool touch, but he just grumbles to keep going.

    Once we reach the top of what seems like twenty flights, Christian easily reaches over my shoulder, unlocking the door. It takes a second or two for my eyes to adjust to the brightness.

   Before me stands what might as well be the entrance to a five star hotel. Shades of grey sparsely adorn the white room. The ceiling is steep and open, where at the peak the silver moon shines through a sky light. A large golden chandelier hangs down, and there's a curved staircase that would make the rationalist of girls feel like a princess.

    A harsh shove snaps me out of my trance, and I fall forward. This time, there are no hands keeping me upright, and I land face first on the cold, tiled floor. My head immediately starts to throb.

    "Loosen up a bit," a honeyed voice speaks. "You'll scare her off."

    Christian scoffs in the background, and I internally groan, rolling over to see the guy who was with Christian at the diner–Myles–standing over me. He reaches out, grabbing a fistful of my shirt, and easily lifts me up.

    As swiftly as he picked me up, I'm promptly spun around so my back is facing him. I quietly seethe at his firm, directive touch; my shoulder must be bruising from when I was first grabbed.

    I hear the clink of a pocket knife and my heart starts to beat for what might come next. I keep my head forward, yet push my eyes as far into my peripheral vision as they'll go. I do a double take when the burning sensation around my wrists is alleviated. Sure enough, the thick rope that I was just bound by now lies on the ground.

    "Thank you," I lightly gasp, turning around to meet his eyes.

    "That's enough," Christian blazes. He grips inside my elbow and drags me away, Myles now tagging along.

    We walk through various corridors and past various locked doors for what seems like centuries until we stop at the biggest door yet. It's a floor to ceiling, ash double door that lays flush against the white stucco.

    Myles pushes it open for us, and we enter, Christian's grip finally loosening off. I rub my arm where his grip was, soothing the tender skin, as I look around.

    The walls, covered in maps and pictures of downtown, are a dark gray color with blue undertones. An animal fur rug covers most of the space, where a sofa and two cushioned chairs rest. On the other side of them is a sleek desk, behind it a large fireplace with a bookcase on either side sparks a flame.

    Myles sinks down into the sofa, while Christian stands unperturbed in front of his desk, causally shifting his weight from the ball of one foot to the other.

    "Please, have a seat." He gestures with a tilt of his head.

    I gingerly sit down on the edge of one of the chairs.

    "People don't usually have the guts to talk back to me," Christian starts, "so I was surprised when you did."

    "Excuse me?" I assert.

    He gets up from his resting position and swaggers towards me, stopping so close that I feel the toes of our shoes grazing. Towering over my seated frame, a loose strand of his hair falls from its fixed position as he stares downwards.

    "Fierce. Bold. Audacious," he lists. "Those are the qualities that I like. They make great potential."

    "For what?" I reply.

    He heads back to his desk, relaxing back into its chair. The room is silent for a minute as he stares at the ceiling, thinking of what to say next. Leaning forward on his forearms, he looks directly into my eyes.

    "I want you to work for me," he states.

    I don't stop to think about his statement, the only thing on my mind being the fact I found a way in. "What's in it for me?" I counter, eager to get more information.

    "Oh, nothing really, but living is a plus," he threatens, eyebrows raised in amusement.

    Simultaneously, Myles is no longer in his spot on the couch, but pressing a gun to my head. The cool barrel chills my heated skin.

    "Don't worry it will be nothing too intense: mostly providing sparsely needed assistance to me. Besides, I've read your file–" Christian glances at a stack of papers to the side of him–"and I don't think you'll have any problems adjusting."   

    He must be talking about my fake file; I remember Noah briefly saying something about it. I silently curse at him for making it so appealing. My thoughts get interrupted as Myles's gun presses harder into my temple, slightly igniting my headache from earlier.

    "So, what do you say?" Christian concludes.

    I briefly hesitate as the full scale of what this mission is finally resonates. Is it too late to back out?

    "I'll do it," I say, my voice wavering for the first instance in a long, long time.

    The pressure on my temple stops as Myles steps away, sinking back into his previous spot like nothing happened.

    Christian walks over, pulling my phone out of his pocket, which he must have taken when I got knocked out. "You can find your way back. You'll be learning the ins and outs of this place soon enough anyways," he speaks.

    I stand up and take it, the tips of my fingers slightly brushing his. "Good night, Christian," I muse.

    The corner of his mouth quirks up but quickly disappears as fast as it came. "I'll be in contact with you soon," he notes.

    I turn on my heel, heading towards the vast hallways, hoping I remember the way. Eventually finding my way out, I take in the magnitude of the house I was just stuck inside.

    The exterior is made of grey brick, which the white trimmed windows and columns contrast against, and the vaulted roofline contains several dormers, making the house seem even more prestigious. As a whole, it spans the length of a football field with ivy and ferns growing up the sides, slightly swaying in the cool breeze.

    The front landing leads out to a large concrete driveway, where a row of black SUVs is lined up. My feet carry me down the row to find my vehicle, which I left at Cutter Lane, parked at the end. "At least Christian is decent enough to have my car brought here," I mutter to myself.

    The doors are unlocked, so I hop in, plug in my home address, and take off down the long driveway.

***

When I arrive home it's almost midnight, yet light seeps out, casting patterns on the ground, from more than half of the windows. I go inside, heading directly to the one place I know I can count on Noah being: his office.

    I firmly rap my knuckles on the door before entering, the sound echoing throughout the silent house.

    I push open the door, not waiting for a response, to find Noah resting back into his chair, swirling a shallow glass of whiskey.

    "Hey, how did it go?" he asks, turning to face me.

    I walk over, popping the cork back into the open bottle and place it out of reach. Noah doesn't usually drink, but I'm not going to pressure him to talk about why all the sudden he is.

    I lay back into one of the large chairs, swinging my legs over the armrest. "Do you want the long version or the short version?" I drone.

    He downs the remnants of his drink, setting the glass to the side.  "Just give it to me straight," he decides.

    "Christian wants me to work for him."

    Noah doesn't say anything for a moment, the space between his eyebrows creased. "That wasn't according to plan, but I suppose it still works," he acknowledges. "How'd you manage that anyways?"

    "I basically told him to fuck off. Apparently he likes that," I admit, "it shows I have desirable qualities." I raise my left hand and make finger quotations.

    He chuckles. "I always knew that attitude of yours would get you in trouble."

      I laugh along. "Goodnight, Noah," I sigh.

    I get up and head to leave. Unfortunately, I can't sleep in anymore; I have to get up for school in the morning. 

     "What is he having you do?" Noah announces, stopping me at the door.

    "I have no idea."