Chapter 163
Vivian looked around the room again, this time with a clearer head. There had to be something she could use, if only to annoy the people slamming against the door. Getting away might not be on the table, but that didn’t mean she had to go quietly.
Another hit against the door caused dust to flutter down from the ceiling, drawing Vivian’s attention. The ceiling was covered with floating tiles, most of which were in decent shape, though a few were missing completely. This meant there was space between the ceiling and roof above; space she’d be able to fit through.
Not wasting any time, Vivian used the shelves affixed to the wall as a ladder, reaching the ceiling in no time. Pushing a tile to the side, squinting as dust rained down, she pulled herself up using the part of the wall that jutted into the space between the ceiling and roof; there was no way the tiles themselves would be able to hold her weight.
It took some maneuvering for her to move the tile back into its spot, but she managed to do it as the cabinet against the door fell over.
Sucking in her breath, she looked around. It was dark, but there was some light coming through the spots where tiles were missing. A ventilation shaft ran the length of the space, feeding every room below with air. Now the question was, would it hold her weight?
There wasn’t time to worry about that, as loud voices were coming from below. Vivian shimmied herself to the shaft and pulled herself up onto it. The thin, metal straps trembled as the vent groaned from her weight.
Heart racing, she pulled herself forward only for the groaning to get worse. There was a sudden, loud noise that made her jump, and the straps gave out. Vivian found herself falling through the ceiling and into the room next to the supply closet. She hit the floor back first, forcing the air from her lungs as her entire body screamed from the impact. Dazed, it took her a few seconds to remember how to breathe as she lay there.
A door swung open with a bang. Seconds later, rough hands grabbed Vivian and forced her back to her feet. Muscle-man pulled her into the corridor, slamming her against the wall opposite the door. “You think you’re funny?” He demanded, his tone telling Vivian she’d managed to really piss him off. His hand grabbed her shirt, keeping her against the wall by applying an insane amount of pressure to her chest. “Think you’re smart? Stupid bitch.”
“Enough,” a cold voice ordered. Vivian was suddenly released from muscle-man’s grip. Unprepared, her legs buckled and she found herself sitting on the floor. “What did I tell you?”
Muscle-man mumbled something as he stepped aside.
“Get out of my sight. All of you.” It was the man who’d used the last name Clark. He was suddenly standing in front of Vivian, his blue eyes piercing her like arrows made of ice.
He reached down, grabbing her shoulders and forced her back to her feet. Once she was up, he slammed his forearm across her chest, pinning her to the wall as he leaned in close. When their noses were barely an inch apart, he said, “Let me explain exactly what kind of situation you’re in, so you don’t do anything stupid like that again.”
With his free hand, the man held up a pocket knife for her to see. Once he was certain she understood what he had, he pressed it against her neck until she felt a sharp prick. Her breath caught in her throat as her body froze. Eyes wide, she watched him, scared to swallow in case it pushed the knife further into her skin.
“Yes. Exactly. Your life no longer belongs to you,” he explained, voice low, a deadly glint in his eye. “You belong to me, and you will do as you’re told, or you’ll end up like that fuck up.”
He must have noticed the confusion on her face, as he let out a low chuckle. “Do you think I’m the type of man to allow anyone who defies me to live?”
Panic — pure, unadulterated panic — overcame Vivian at this revelation. She reached up and began pulling at the arm holding her in place, without success. The man laughed, looking amused at her attempts. “You’ll never get away from me, girl. It’s best you accept that now, before—“
He trailed off when she grabbed at the knife with her right hand, managing to force it away from her neck enough to wrap her fingers around the blade. A warm liquid began to drip from her hand onto her collarbone as she struggled to no avail. The panic Vivian was feeling only grew worse as the man once again laughed at her, amused at her futile struggles. “Go ahead. You’ll just end up cutting off those fing—“
He was cut off mid sentence as Vivian slammed her left hand against his face. A single blow wasn’t enough to make a difference, but her thumb ramming itself into his eye was a different story. She felt something give way under her thumb as he let out a strangled shout. He was suddenly backing away, his hold on her gone as he covered half his face with a hand, the other still clutching the knife.
The second she was free, Vivian scrambled down the corridor, back the way she’d come. Her body screamed in pain as she staggered, using the wall to keep herself upright until she reached the double doors. One was hanging by a singular hinge, the rod she’d used to slow her pursuers nowhere to be seen.
She pushed through the doors and tried to get her bearings. There was no way she could escape this place, especially not in her current state. Panic was still in full control as she tried to find the answer to all her problems somewhere on the production floor. Shouts came from the corridor, and Vivian knew it would take them seconds to catch up.
The sound of a gunshot rang out; time was up.