Chapter 7 - The Midnight ConfrontationMy feet froze on the pavement. My hand instinctively drifted toward the pepper spray in my coat pocket, though I knew it would be completely useless against men like these.
"You walk fast, Hannah," Marcus said, his voice cutting cleanly through the chilling wind as he stepped closer, his heavy footsteps crunching on the gravel.
"Mr. Blackwood," I said, keeping my chin up despite the cold dread pooling in my stomach. "If this is about what happened at the restaurant earlier—"
"This isn't about the restaurant," Marcus interrupted, stopping a few feet away from me. His dark eyes scanned the dark windows of my apartment building before locking back onto mine. "This is about who you really are."
"I told you. I'm a waitress."
"People who are just waitresses don't have the posture of a trained operative," Marcus replied smoothly, stepping even closer. "People who are just waitresses don't look around every room they enter to identify every exit and blind spot. And people who are just waitresses don't carry federal encryption bypass codes on a flash drive hidden inside the lining of an old suitcase."
My blood ran instantly cold. My heart stopped beating for a full second.
He knows.
How? How could he possibly know about the suitcase? I had kept it hidden under my bed, locked with a biometric padlock.
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"I don't know what you're talking about," I whispered, my voice tight.
Marcus let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Federal Witness Protection is a messy business, Agent Miller. Or should I call you by your real name—Elena Vance?"
