The library queen

"Keys," Chloe said, tossing the brass ring right across the front desk. Maya caught them with a sharp jingle. "Have a good weekend, Chloe." "You’re doing the final sweep again," Chloe complained, zipping up her puffer jacket. "Seriously, Maya, you’re a total psycho workaholic." "I just like the quiet." "Yeah, well, the basement ghosts love you for it." Chloe pushed the heavy glass doors open. "See ya Monday!" The doors clicked shut. Silence hit. Maya clicked her flashlight on, her sneakers squeaking against the polished marble as she headed toward the history section. The aisles got narrow and pitch-black back here. The security cameras only faced the main hall. A perfect blind spot. Then came the smell. A nasty, metallic stench. Heavy rust-proofing oil. And copper. Fresh blood. Maya stopped. She swung her flashlight beam straight down aisle four. A guy was lying between the pine shelves. His legs were perfectly straight, hands crossed neatly over his chest like he was tucked into a coffin. Someone had deliberately posed him there like a sick art exhibit, his glassy eyes staring straight up. Maya didn't scream. Her panic instantly hardened into pure adrenaline. She yanked her phone out and dialed 911. "911, what's your emergency?" "Central City Library. History section," Maya said, her voice dropping into a lethal, steady rhythm. "Okay, what's going on there?" "I need a homicide detective. Right now. Don't send a patrol car, genius. Send the real cops." "Ma'am, are you in danger? Is someone there with you?" "The building's locked. I thought I was alone, but..." Maya locked her eyes on the perfectly posed corpse. "Someone else is in here." "Stay on the line. What's your name?" "Maya Finn. I work here." "Okay, Maya. Tell me exactly what you see." "There's a body." "Is he breathing? Can you check for a pulse?" "Are you stupid? He's dead," Maya snapped, her anger flaring right past the fear. "There's blood everywhere. And he didn't trip and fall." "Are you sure he's deceased, ma'am?" "Yes! Someone freaking moved him! He’s laid out perfectly straight between the shelves. This isn’t a crime scene, it’s a message. Now get your people here before the guy who sent it finds me." "Alright, Maya, take a deep breath. Officers are two minutes away. Get to a safe spot right now." "I'm going to the front doors. If they're not there in two minutes, I'm breaking a window." "Keep me on the line until they get there, okay?" "Just tell them to hurry up." Before she could scream, a rough, calloused hand clamped over her mouth. A freezing metal barrel rammed straight into the base of her skull. The threaded tip of a silencer. "Breathe quietly," a voice rasped in her ear. Low. Deep. Terrifyingly calm. Maya's body went stiff. Her shoulder brushed his jacket—expensive, high-end Italian wool. Underneath the heavy stench of the corpse, she caught his cedarwood cologne and premium leather. She knew the face. She knew the news reports from the shipping empire trial. Renn Savier. But she kept her jaw locked. She wasn't going to give away her best card. He slid his hand off her mouth, but the steel stayed glued to her neck. "You work late, librarian." "Inventory," Maya snapped, her shock instantly hardening into rage. She didn't beg. She looked at the gun. "Security sweeps this floor in three minutes, genius. You need to move." "Cancel it." "I need my radio. Let go of me." Renn’s grip tightened. "Move your hands slowly. Try something, and you're a memory." Maya reached down, her fingers rock steady as she unclipped the radio. She hit the button. "Control, Maya. Historical wing is totally clear. Locking up now." "Copy that, Maya. Night." She dropped her hand, turning her head just enough to glare at him in the dark. "Smart girl," he muttered, a dangerous edge to his voice. "Most people would be screaming by now." "I fix old books. I don't have time to scream," Maya sneered, matching his icy stare. "But you’ve got a massive problem, boss. Look at the guy on the floor. Someone just handed you a death warrant." "What?" "You walked right into a slaughterhouse," she whispered fiercely, her back stiffening against the barrel. "This whole place is a setup. Someone left this body here just to box you into a cage." The guy behind her let out a frosty breath, his cedarwood scent hitting her face. "Keep talking." "The doors were unlocked, the body’s in a perfect blind spot, and the cops are already outside, genius," she hissed. "You usually clean up your messes quietly. This? This was done to bring a crowd. You walked straight into a frame-job." "And you have a way out?" "I run the server room. I can wipe the security tapes and trash the logs before the morning shift even clocks in. I'm your only clean slate, boss. Now shut up." THUD. THUD. THUD. Heavy boots blasted through the main lobby, booming through the building. Maya’s jaw clenched. Don. Graveyard shift. He always checked up on her. "Maya?!" Don’s voice boomed. "There’s a dark sedan running in the back alley and the engine’s hot as hell! Where are you? The side gate is wide open!" The gun barrel shoved brutally into the base of Maya's neck, sparking a flash of pure pain. She felt his muscles coil—he was getting ready to drop the cop. The white flashlight beam splashed against the wall at the edge of aisle two. Don was marching closer, boots crunching on the floorboards. "Maya! I’m drawing my weapon! Talk to me right now!" Maya was pinned flat against the brick wall, Renn’s chest slamming hard against her back. His gun was pointed down, his breathing surprisingly steady. They were completely buried in the dark. Maya frantically calculated the board. "Three steps to the left," she whispered, her voice dropping into a tight command. "Row G. Where the giant history folios are. Go." Renn didn't budge, the gun still biting into her bone. "Why there? Don't play games with me." "The shelves are twelve feet high and the lights are broken back there. The lobby cameras won't see a thing." "He’s got a flashlight, librarian. He’s gonna sweep the room." "There’s a narrow gap between the back shelf and the brick wall! It's pitch black. We can squeeze in." Don’s heavy boots finally hit the edge of the history section. "Maya!" Don shouted, his voice echoing. "I’m drawing my weapon! Step out right now!" The sharp, mechanical clack of a gun slide rack echoed through the dark hall. Renn’s grip tightened around her shoulder. "That copper stink is gonna give us away." Maya didn't waste another second. She reached into her utility apron, her fingers wrapping around a thick glass vial of concentrated restoration solvent. "Hold your breath, you arrogant bastard," Maya whispered fiercely. She slammed the vial straight against the corner of the heavy pine shelf. SMASH. The glass shattered. A sharp, burning chemical vapor exploded into the aisle, instantly obliterating the smell of blood and turning the air into pure acid. Renn moved like lightning. His left arm clamped around her waist, ripping her backward as they slid right into the narrow, dusty gap behind the massive folios. A blinding white flashlight beam slashed across the aisle a millisecond later, splashing over the broken glass and wet puddle on the floor. Don stepped around the corner, coughing instantly. The light missed their hiding spot by a literal hair. Maya was pinned flat against the freezing brick wall, Renn’s chest slamming hard against her back as he held her tight. She didn't flinch. Her eyes turned into pure fire in the dark. Don stopped dead in his tracks. He took one deep breath of the fumes and started coughing violently, gagging so hard he dropped to one knee. "Jesus Christ!" Don gasped, throwing his uniform sleeve over his mouth. His flashlight beam shook wildly against the ceiling. Renn kept his gun aimed straight at the floor, his breathing terrifyingly steady. She took one deep breath, ready to open her mouth and lie.