Work Location: Literally My Grave

Didn't matter. I had one shot.

Get into that conference room before the papers hit ink, and I could flip this.

A sharp curve rushed up. I jerked the wheel. The rear kicked out, sliding wide.

Then—

A black pickup tore out of the trees.

No headlights. No plates.

Like a damn ghost, it came straight at me.

Bang.

The crash hit hard and loud.

My SUV got shoved sideways—six feet easy—almost tipping into the ditch.

The pickup didn't stop. It backed up, lined me up, and gunned it again.

Yeah. Not blocking me.

They were here to kill me.

I caught the driver for a split second—

Black mask. Cap low. But that gold watch? It flashed in the sun.

I knew that watch.

Looked just like the one Jay gave security captain Peter Black for his birthday.

So that's the game. Teaming up with security.

That explained the keys. It explained how my car vanished without a trace.

Rage burned through me.

You wanna ram me to death?

I've spent ten years tearing up highways, slipping past eighteen-wheelers before you knew what you were doing.

I slammed it into reverse, barely dodging the second hit.

The second it adjusted—I floored it and drove straight into its rear side.

Blind spot. Weak point.

Boom.

The pickup lost control and slammed headfirst into a roadside tree. White smoke poured from the hood.

I slammed the brakes, grabbed the wrench, and jumped out.

The pickup door flew open.

The masked driver stumbled out. Saw the wrench—then bolted.

"Stop!"

I took two steps after him.

Pointless.

He knew the terrain. Gone in seconds, swallowed by the trees.

I didn't chase.

No time.

I walked back to the pickup.

Something sat on the driver's seat—a blue card.

I picked it up.

Access card. [Northpoint Corp Security Department – General Access.]

On the back, scrawled in marker:

[Peter.]

Peter's card.

Hard proof.

I slipped it into my pocket, then glanced into the truck bed.

Broken headstones. A bucket of red paint. Print scraps from the photo they used for that headstone.

All of it. Just sitting there.

I pulled out the old phone and snapped photos, shot video—everything.

Jay's little "gift."

Yeah. I was sending it right back.

I climbed back into my wrecked car.

Hood dented. Tires shot. Didn't matter.

In the rearview, my face was streaked with dirt. Eyes lit up.

Jay, you wanna play? Let's play.

I'll make you regret pushing me this far.

***

I floored the battered SUV and aimed straight for the city.

People kept staring as I'd lost it.

Yeah. Didn't care.

Checked the time.

Ten minutes.