Page 104 of Death is Familiar

“It’s just⁠—"

“The only way this would put your position in jeopardy is if you broke the contract. If you stopped taking birth control. Or, if I’m blunt, Jack was the father.” My heart stopped before taking up thundering rhythm. “Something which I’m sure we both know is not possible.”

So, she did know about Jack. Which meant her words should have comforted me. They should have been reassuring. For one reason or another, she didn’t suspect Jack and I crossed the line, which should have a been a relief. Instead, the blue-black panic slammed back into me at full force.

Because Jack was the father, and sooner or later, someone would find out.

“I’m sorry, I just—” Needed to get out. I didn’t care if I had permission to leave.

“Take all the time you need.” As she spoke, I got to my feet and grabbed ahold of the door. “Supports will be made available. A note will be sent to your inbox with resources, given the… unique nature of this situation.”

I don’t remember what I said, what words came from my mouth, if there were any. I vaguely remember nodding, as I put one foot in front of the other, trying to create as much distance between myself and the piece of paper sitting on Rochan’s desk.

Ben said something to me as I passed through the outer office. The only words I made out were “money” and “Ms. James.”

Later. I’d, I’d come back for it later. I needed fresh air. Now.

It was reasonable for someone who presumably just found out life changing news to go outside. Right? Yes, it was. This was normal. Me being strange and not controlling my emotions was perfectly normal given the circumstances.

If anything, it made my surprise more believable.

The world warped and slowed around me, everything muffled, like I was underwater. My limbs waterlogged and heavy with an overwhelming sense of dread. Which was appropriate because I was doomed.

I was going back to prison. There was no way I’d get out of this now. And Jack, Jack still didn’t know. I’d planned on telling him later today when we met at the Jackalope, the news meant to stay between the two of us.

Now, everything had changed. For the worse.

I didn’t recall walking the halls, or taking the elevator down, but somehow, I made it outside. Just a few steps out of the FBI entrance, I squinted at the stifling sun.

What if I just ran?

Disappearing would be favorable to captivity. Embarrassment. The disappointing looks from Todd.

My feet carried me a couple more paces before, despite all my internalizing, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Which usually meant something was out of place. Wrong.

A moment later, I smashed into someone, a man, and as an involuntary “sorry” slipped from my lips I felt a piercing jab into the slope of my neck. A stinging in my veins. The world slowed as I turned, catching a glimpse of the man I ran into⁠—

Wait, why was the man wearing a ski mask?

Shiiiitttt….

My body turned to gelatin, my muscles relaxing to the point I couldn’t support my own weight. The man in the ski mask caught me, dragging me to his chest to keep me upright.

I wanted to push away. To scrape and claw and fight. But I couldn’t even hold my head up, couldn’t raise my arms. Nothing but deadweight, the last thing I remember was the pull of damp cotton against my cheek, a blackout hood placed over my head, and the world went dark.

23

Lights. Bright white. Artificial.

My mouth full of cotton, head pounding, it felt like I’d been hit by a truck.

There were people shouting. No… someone was singing, loudly, while others talked in fast hushed tones.

Time warping, the words skipped, jumped, and circled as I drifted in and out of consciousness.

It was quieter now.

There was still singing, but lower, at a whisper. Beeping. The hum of machinery. The buzz of a light.