“This isn’t over, Emily,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper that the microphone couldn’t catch.

“It is for me,” I said.

I walked past him, my coat brushing against his sleeve.

I did not look back as I reached the heavy iron gate of the elevator.

The reporter followed me, her microphone held out, but I did not speak.

As the elevator gate began to slide shut, the light on my phone flashed once more.

It was a text message from an unknown number.

I slid the screen open with a steady thumb.

The message was only five words long.

*They are at the front.*

I looked up through the iron grate just as the elevator began its slow, jerking descent.

Daniel was still standing by the window, his silhouette dark against the gray morning sky.

But he was no longer looking at me.

He was looking down at his own hands, which were empty.

The elevator dropped past the third floor, the sound of the sirens outside growing louder with every second.

I reached into my pocket and touched the cold metal of my car keys.