Chapter 9 - The Threat
I drove back to my apartment with my head on a swivel, checking my rearview mirror every ten seconds. The stakes had just skyrocketed from a domestic dispute to a mob hit.
When I reached my floor, my instincts screamed at me. The hallway was too quiet.
I drew my Glock, keeping the barrel pointed at the floor, and approached my door. The deadbolt was still locked, but taped to the peephole was a single, pure white envelope.
I peeled it off with my gloved hand and opened it in the hallway.
Inside was a high-resolution photograph of Sarah, taken through the window of my apartment. She was sitting on my couch, drinking tea. The photo had been taken from the roof of the building across the street within the last hour.
Written on the back in black marker were four words: Drop the charges. Tomorrow.
Mark hadn't taken the photo. He was too cowardly. He had hired a professional tracker.
I burst into the apartment, locking the door behind me. Sarah jumped, dropping her mug.
"Get away from the windows!" I shouted, pulling the blackout curtains tight.
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"Elena, what’s wrong?" she panicked, seeing the gun in my hand.
"Pack a bag," I said, my voice leaving no room for argument. "We are leaving. Right now. This apartment is compromised."
