It was a text message from an unknown number.

*They are at the front desk. Use the basement exit.*

I didn’t reply.

I reached the bottom of the stairs and pushed through the heavy fire door into the basement parking level.

The air smelled of damp concrete and exhaust fumes.

I walked quickly toward my car, my keys clenched in my hand.

As I unlocked the door, a figure stepped out from behind a concrete pillar.

I froze, my hand dropping to my bag where I kept my pepper spray.

“Grace,” a quiet voice said.

The man stepped into the yellow light of the overhead bulb.

It was Aaron.

He looked exhausted, his face pale, his jacket soaked through with rain.

“Aaron, what are you doing here?” I whispered, looking around the empty garage. “They are looking for you. They’ve framed you for a hack on the base.”

“I know,” he said, his voice trembling. “They came to my apartment an hour ago. I had to leave through the fire escape.”

“How did you find me?”