April moved.
Fast. Silent.
Every footstep, every shift of air, every creak of the floor painted a picture in her mind.
April wasn't just running—she was flowing through the space, weaving between desks, slipping behind shelves.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside.
Two people. Heavy boots. Armed.
Not security guards.
They moved too carefully. Too controlled.
They're looking for me.
April pressed her back against the wall, controlling her breathing.
The door handle turned.
A slow, deliberate motion.
They weren't rushing in. They were checking.
They know someone's here.
A soft click—a weapon being drawn.
April's heartbeat hammered in her ears, but she stayed still, listening, feeling the space around her.
One of them stepped inside.
Just a few feet away.
April could hear the shift of fabric, the weight of a gun resting in his grip.
Then—
A voice.
Low. Calm.
"Nothing here. But someone was."
A pause.
"Let's move. She won't get far."
The door closed.
April didn't move until their footsteps faded down the hall.
Then April exhaled, gripping the edge of a desk.
'Who the hell were they?'
April wasn't waiting to find out.