“Now,” I whispered, pushing Eleanor toward the rear door.

We scrambled down the narrow aisle as the heat behind us began to rise.

I reached the heavy metal emergency bar of the exit door and shoved it with my shoulder.

The door resisted for a second, then popped open into the cool night.

We stumbled out into the gravel alley behind the building.

The air was sharp and smelled of salt from the nearby bay.

In the distance, the headlights of a large black pickup truck idled near the fence line.

“This way,” I said, guiding Eleanor toward the shadows of the adjacent brick building.

We walked quickly, keeping our heads down as the sound of the crackling fire grew louder behind us.

By the time we reached my vehicle parked two blocks away, sirens were wailing in the distance.

I unlocked the doors, and we climbed inside.

Eleanor sat in the passenger seat, her face pale under the streetlights.

“They tried to kill us, Natalie,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Gregory’s partners won’t stop,” I said, setting the red folder on my lap.