I blow out a long sigh as I stare up at the crumbling building in front of me. I tighten my hands on the straps of my backpack and slowly walk up the stone steps.

Structurally, the building is sturdy and strong. Underneath the crumbling exterior and broken windows. It had once been a very nice three-story building. Whether it had been for businesses or just a huge mansion at one time, I didn't know. Nor did I particularly care. What mattered was that the building would be perfect for my purposes.

I push open the rickety door and survey the inside. There are several rooms that branch off, sparse to no furniture, a staircase against the far wall and dust and dirt everywhere.

I slide my backpack off my shoulder and dig through it, half regretting throwing out the apple and water Ryder had given as soon as I'd left the hotel.

You can call me crazy but something about his food offering felt off to me.

I pull the metal sphere out of my backpack and then pocket a couple of the tracks of "mints." I slip my backpack into another room, behind the door. I then take the stairs to the second floor and pull a chair to the center of the room.

I hold the sphere in my hands and press a small, hidden button on the side, causing the sphere to split into two halves.

I stare up at the ceiling above me and then down at the floor below me.

Hey, the building's been scheduled to be demolished anyway. Who cares if I speed up its destruction, right?

***

I'm standing on the third floor, in the middle of the huge room, staring at the staircase as I wait for Volkov to show. The gun is gripped tight in my right hand, a small black box with a button in the middle in my left hand.

I heard the car pull up. I had looked out the window to see him get out of it and yet, he still hasn't made his way up here.

I shift my weight from foot to foot as I stare at the staircase, wishing and waiting for something to happen.

My wish is, unfortunately, granted.

Screw you invisible genie.

"I'm impressed."

I whirl around to face Volkov as he climbs in through the window behind me . . . from the fire escape. How could I be so stupid? How could I not check for a damn fire escape?

He holds a gun in his hand and aims it at me as he takes slow steps toward me. "You actually came alone." He shrugs nonchalantly. "I suppose that means I'll just have to hunt down your little FBI friend after I'm finished with you. Of course, you won't be dead, so you'll still be around to witness his demise first hand."

My anger flares up and my grip on the gun tightens. He notices.

He shakes his head with a mocking smile. He waves his gun at me. "I wouldn't if I were you," He says. "I may not want you dead yet, but I will still shoot you."

He's in the wrong place. He was supposed to come up the stairs. Supposed to be standing in the spot now behind me, instead, he's on the wrong side. And it's a huge problem. My plan depends on him being in a particular spot.

I look behind me briefly to the staircase. I might still be able to get him to where I want him to go. Unfortunately, that will ultimately leave me too close to the blast. And there's the possibility he won't be close enough.

I start taking slow steps backward for every step he takes toward me.

He raises his eyebrows. "I thought you came here to turn yourself in," He says. "To give back what you stole."

I continue taking steps backward until I hit the railing of the staircase. He stops when I stop. He's still not in the right place, but it's better than nothing.

I stare back at him and hold up the small black box, my finger poised over the button. He stares at me curiously, cautiously, not quite understanding what it is I'm holding.

"You thought wrong," I tell him before pressing the button.

The blast is deafening and I'm too close. But of course, I knew that. I'm thrown backward and the railing of the staircase collapses under me and the next thing I know, I'm tumbling down the stairs.

I didn't set up enough explosives to level the building, thankfully, but I did set enough to blow out a big enough hole through the third and second floor. And to blow Volkov away.

There's a ringing in my ears and my whole body feels stiff and achy. I groan and roll myself onto my stomach, staring at the hole on the second floor, where I've fallen to . . . or at least, staring at the blurry outline of a hole.

I curse as I turn my head, looking for my glasses. I find them perched on the edge of the second step of the staircase and I slip them back on. I then look around for Ryder's gun that I lost during the fall as well.

I struggle to push myself to my feet and then freeze as I notice a hand holding on to the edge of the hole. And then Volkov's pulling himself up, his eyes on me and a dangerous expression on his face.

Apparently, he was able to dodge the blast enough that it didn't kill him. Instead, he just fell down the hole. But it wasn't even the whole way down the hole. Nope. No fatal blow or fall.

Well . . . Shit. Just my luck.

I move faster but not fast enough before he's grabbing hold of my hair and pulling me into him.

I swing my elbow back into his gut, pleased when he releases his grip on my hair. I scramble to my feet, but before I can make it anywhere, a fist is slammed into the side of my head.

I grit my teeth and press my hands to my head, once again on the floor. And my glasses once again gone.

If I live through this, I'm buying contacts.

A gun is shoved in my face. Or, at least, I'm assuming it's a gun. Mostly it looks like a black blob of a stick like nature.

"I swear," Volkov growls and I can just barely make out his words through the ringing in my ears. "If you don't get on your feet right now, I will kill you."

Any other day I might feel like testing that. Right now, with my head feeling like it's been split open, I'll do as he says.

So, I do. I get to my feet. And then, blame it on Ryder's influence, I throw my weight into him and throw us both through the hole.

A gunshot goes off but it doesn't hit anything. I end up landing on top of Volkov, before quickly rolling away.

I push to my feet and half hobble, half run back up the stairs to the second floor, frantically looking for the gun I dropped. I nearly start crying tears of joy when I find it sticking out from under some broken floorboards.

"You don't want to do this Nicolette," Volkov calls out, his voice sounding way too close despite the fact that he's still on the first floor.

I quickly move toward a room off to the side as I hear him coming up the stairs. I take care to stay in the shadows, which isn't hard to do seeing as how there aren't any lights in this building and the sun set over an hour ago. I watch where I step as best I can, listening for him as I make my way closer to the room, hoping to find a place to hide.

Unfortunately, since it's dark and I can't see shit without my glasses, I end up kicking something. What, I'm entirely sure, but it's big enough to make a noise worth noticing. Gunshots echo out and bullets spray up the wall around me.

I jump and dive through the open doorway and into the room, kicking the door shut behind me.

Except, once I'm trapped inside, I see that this room has no windows and no other doors. It's a death trap. A literal death trap.

Can nothing go my way?

I'm sorry I pissed you off God, I swear I wasn't doing it intentionally.

I suppose the only good part about the room is that it seems to have been used to store up all the old furniture that had once been in this place. So, at the very least, it does provide a few hiding spots. Not that he won't find me anyway, but I just need to keep him busy until John gets here.

I do the math in my head. Count the seconds, minutes, hours. He still won't be here for another twenty minutes at the least. In which case Volkov will have either killed me or taken me out of here by then.

Freaking fantastic.

The thought of Volkov getting me instead of killing me is enough to send a new kind of terror pumping through my veins.

Please God, I will go to church, adopt orphans, feed homeless, save kittens from trees, become a nun, anything if you'll just strike this bastard down and return him to the dust he came from.

I crawl through the mess of furniture until I find a huge old fashioned couch backed into a corner. I pull it slightly away from the wall before climbing behind it just as the door to the room opens.

I hear things scraping, scratching, and being thrown around as he moves furniture out the way to create a path through the room, so he can find me.

"Come on Nicolette." His taunting voice calls.

I place my hands over my mouth to keep in the scream that so desperately wants to escape as he stops by my hiding spot.

Probability he doesn't look and just keeps walking by?

Low. Very, very low.

My breathing sounds like the loudest thing ever and I try to will myself to shut up, to breath evenly. I begin to count in my head, begin to run through math problems.

Unfortunately, the only thing I'm able to run through is the probability of making it out of this alive.

I try to focus my eyes on anything. Try to take my mind off the gun wielding maniac currently stopped behind me. That doesn't work either.

It's damn near impossible to see anything in this dark building and my glasses have long since been lost. My crappy eyesight doing absolutely nothing to help me focus on something else other my inevitable end.

I nearly let out a shout of complete and utter joy when I hear his footsteps retreat from my hiding spot.

"I'll make this easy for you." He says calmly and I dare not move a nanometer. "I'll give you the chance to join back up. To help us out once again."

I'm silent, my heart beating wildly in my chest and for a moment I'm sure he can hear it. I'm sure he can hear my heavy breathing and pounding heart.

"It'll be just like old times." His footsteps echo around the room as he walks through the area, trying to determine where it is I'm hiding. He knows I'm in this room, and he knows he's got me beat.

Ryder's voice seems to echo around in my head, telling me to shut up, to stay quiet. That he's only trying to figure out where I am...gee thanks. It's not like I hadn't already figured that out.

My hands find the gun resting on the floor next to me. The gun I'd stolen from Ryder. He's likely not even noticed it's gone...and he won't notice it's gone. Not till it's too late.

It's not like I'd actually be able to hit this guy. Sure I'd been taught how to use a gun but my aim sucks...not to mention I don't even have my glasses and I'm as blind as one can be without them.

I hear his footsteps stop a second time by my hiding place in the dark corner, wedged behind the musty old couch.

Probability he passes by a second time?

Non-freaking-existent.

I'm so screwed...and dead. Mostly dead.

I should've told someone where I was going. But the thought hadn't crossed my mind. Especially since I'd broken probably every law short of murder to get here now.

Suddenly death doesn't seem that bad...sounds a lot better than facing Ryder's wrath if I make it out of this alive...which I won't.

I'd never planned on it to begin with.

I'd dug myself a deep hole this time, and nothing was going to get me out of it. I'd known that from the start. I knew what it was I wanted to do. What I wanted to achieve.

I've always blamed all of them for the way my life turned out. Constantly running from the police, FBI, and every other freaking law enforcement officer on the planet, but it was never their fault. They'd never had a choice. I had, and I chose wrong.

But I plan on making the right choice now...and living with the consequences.

Even if that means death...and considering my predicament...

Yeah, it means death...I'm so sorry Ryder...no I'm not.

My grip on the gun tightens and I hear the couch start to scrape across the floor as he begins to move it, I don't let him move it very far.

I throw my weight into it as he pulls on it and I shove it into him. He lets out a shout as he stumbles back and I waste no time in jumping over the couch and making a run for it. I'm brought down my ankle.

I kick and kick and kick at him as he tries to pull me toward him. I try to aim the gun at him but since I can barely see his silhouette, it's more likely I'd end up shooting my own leg.

I reach out with my free hand for something, anything and my hands close around something wooden and heavy. I don't think twice before I swing it in the general direction of what should be his head.

I hit something, but somehow, I think it's his back and not his head. His grip of my ankle loosens enough for me to pull myself free and I run out of the room and up the stairs to the third floor. I duck into a different room and hide behind a desk, peeking out to watch for Volkov.

It's only then that I realize I'm still clutching the wooden thing I'd hit Volkov with. The thing that just so happened to be in the right place at the right time. The thing that probably saved my life . . . for now. I turn it over in my hands and even though I can't clearly see it, I can still tell what it is right away.

An angel. A carved wooden angel.

"Holy crap," I mutter as I stare up at the ceiling as if I can see beyond it. "I swear I'll go to church from now on," I whisper. "but I would have preferred it if you just struck the guy with lightening and fried him."

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