We walked out of the office and back toward the elevators, our heels clicking in unison.

My heart was hammering against my ribs so hard I could barely breathe.

We stepped into the elevator, and Sarah pressed the button for the garage.

Just as the metal doors began to slide shut, a hand slid between them.

The safety sensors beeped, and the doors slowly rolled back.

Sloane stood in the opening, her face pale, holding a small black USB drive in her hand.

Sloane stepped into the elevator, her heels scraping against the metal threshold.

The doors slid shut behind her, sealing the three of us in the small, mirrored carriage.

The air inside became instantly thick, smelling of her expensive lavender perfume and the sharp, sour scent of sweat.

She looked at Sarah, then turned her frantic, red-rimmed eyes to me.

“You have to promise me,” Sloane whispered, her knuckles white around the plastic drive.

“Promise you what, Sloane?” I asked.

My voice was calmer than I felt, though my heart was still hammering against my ribs.