Chapter 7 - The Truth in the Dark
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The flashlight beam cast long, menacing shadows across the concrete walls of the abandoned factory. I didn't lower my weapon, keeping the barrel pointed safely at the floor but maintaining my grip.
“If you were going to shoot me, Larkin, you would have done it in the car,” I said, meeting his furious gaze without blinking. “I just saved your life.”
“You saved your own life,” Larkin countered, taking another step forward, forcing me to tilt my head back to look at him. “A normal secretary would be curled in a fetal position sobbing right now. A normal secretary doesn't carry a suppressed 9mm strapped to her thigh at a charity gala. Who sent you? The feds? A rival family?”
“If I was sent to kill you or arrest you, I’ve had three years of bringing you black coffee to do it,” I replied, my voice steady. “I am exactly who my background check said I am. Penelope Woods. I just omitted a few chapters of my history.”
“Omitted,” Larkin scoffed, a dark, dangerous sound. “Enlighten me.”
“My father was a cleaner for the Chicago syndicate,” I said quietly, the truth tasting like ash in my mouth after keeping it buried for so long. “When I was eighteen, a hit went wrong. The syndicate blamed him. They wiped out my entire family. I was the only one who survived.”
Larkin’s expression shifted, the anger cooling into something much sharper and far more dangerous. Recognition.
“I spent five years running, learning how to survive, learning how to shoot, how to fight, how to disappear,” I continued, staring into his eyes. “When I finally felt safe, I moved to New York. I got an accounting degree. I wanted a normal life. I wanted to be invisible. So I became your furniture.”
“You picked the wrong office to hide in,” Larkin murmured, his voice dropping an octave.
“I picked the safest office in the city,” I corrected him. “Nobody looks twice at a boring, mousy accountant working for Larkin Steves. Your reputation protected me, and the salary kept me fed. Until Thomas decided to make me his punchline tonight.”
Silas cleared his throat from the heavy metal door, gripping his weapon. “Boss. The perimeter is clear for now, but they’ll regroup. We need to move to the safehouse.”
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Larkin didn't break eye contact with me. He slowly reached out, his fingers brushing against the cold metal of the gun in my hand, before trailing up my bare arm, sending a violent shiver down my spine.
“The invisible secretary is dead, Penelope,” Larkin whispered. “You are stepping into the light now. And you are working directly for me.”
