cornered
416 Words
The beams of the headlights poured into the auto shop, bleaching everything in harsh white.
Ethan was already on his feet, shoving the duffel bag toward Clara.
“Take it and stay low,” he ordered.
“What about you?” she whispered, panic tightening her throat.
“Just do it.”
The car outside rolled to a slow stop. Doors opened—one, two, three. Footsteps echoed across the wet pavement, deliberate and unhurried, as though the people outside already knew they had their prey.
A voice called out, smooth and mocking.
“Ethan Reed. You’ve been busy.”
Ethan’s face hardened. He motioned for Clara to move toward the back of the shop. She crouched behind an old workbench, her heart hammering against her ribs, clutching the duffel so tightly her knuckles hurt.
The front door creaked open. Two men stepped in, shadows against the glare from outside. One of them was the intruder from the warehouse; the other was broader, with a scar cutting down the side of his jaw.
“We just want the bag,” the scarred man said. “Hand it over, and we might let you walk out.”
Ethan smirked, but his eyes stayed cold. “That’s not happening.”
The intruder’s gaze swept the shop, his flashlight beam darting over the floor, the walls—then stopping on Clara’s hiding spot.
He grinned. “Found her.”
Before Clara could move, Ethan stepped between them, pulling a small handgun from under his jacket.
“Don’t,” he warned.
The scarred man chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “You really think you can protect her against all of us?”
Ethan didn’t blink. “Try me.”
The standoff lasted seconds, but it felt like hours. Then, from outside, the sudden wail of police sirens shattered the tension.
The intruder cursed. The scarred man shot Ethan a look that promised they’d meet again, then backed toward the door.
“This isn’t over,” he said, before disappearing into the night.
Ethan exhaled slowly, lowering his gun. “Come on,” he told Clara. “We need to move before they circle back.”
Clara’s hands were still trembling as she stood. “Ethan… what the hell is in this box?”
He glanced at her, and for the first time, she saw something in his eyes—hesitation.
“If I told you,” he said quietly, “you might wish you’d never asked.”
- Writer
