Victoria Sterling stepped onto the concrete, her designer heels clicking sharply in the quiet garage.

Victoria smoothed the front of her tailored gray coat.

The diamonds on her fingers caught the dim overhead light of the garage.

She smiled, but her eyes remained cold and flat.

“Out for a late-night drive, Elila?” she asked.

Her voice echoed off the concrete pillars.

I pressed my back against my car door, the cold metal soaking through my thin jacket.

I clutched the manila folder tighter against my ribs.

“What do you want, Victoria?” I asked.

My voice sounded thinner than I wanted it to.

Victoria took two slow steps toward me, her heels clicking like a countdown.

“You know exactly what I want,” she said.

She glanced down at the folder in my arms.

“You have been playing chemist in your little lab, but you are out of your depth.”

The driver in the dark suit moved to her left side.

He was tall, with broad shoulders and a scar running along his jawline.

He did not look at me; he kept his eyes on the folder.