I wonder if he can hear my heartbeat. I hear it in my chest, my head, my ears. I can barely breathe with his soft hands on my mouth and his eyes dark eyes looking me in the eye, his scent taking over the room. It is three feet long and wide, and the air is stuffy, but I shiver when I feel his breath on my forehead.

I'm sandwiched between his hard body and the shelves. I shift as I feel something sharp prod my back but there's nowhere to go. Especially with his broad frame taking up all the space. His eyes narrow in warning, silently telling me to stop moving.

Atlas's footsteps get closer and closer until he's standing in the storage room next to us. His voice is muffled by the doors and walls, but that's it. We can only hear one voice which means he's on a call with someone.

I hear the shuffling in the room next to ours stop. A few footsteps. A door being closed. His voice pauses.

My heartbeat hammers in my chest as I realize something that makes my blood run cold.

My bracelet. The bracelet is on the floor in front of the door.

I close my eyes and panic. No, no, no, no. I'm done for. On the first try, I fail foolishly because of a silly mistake. Because I'm distracted by him. Marli's disappointed face flashes behind my eyelids.

Atlas is going to figure it out and open our door any minute now. I squeeze my eyes shut, anticipating the turn of the doorknob.

But it never comes.

His voice carries on as his footsteps start to fade away. He laughs, the sound getting fainter by the second. Until we can't hear it anymore.

I open my eyes, and Theo takes his hand away. He holds a finger to his lips. We stand like this for a minute, maybe two, listening for any sound. Then his hand reaches behind him, not able to fully turn around, and twists the doorknob.

I breathe out in relief when we step out, placing my hand on my still beating chest. My gaze flits to the ground where the bracelet once was, only to find it not there. He took it.

"Atlas took the—"

"Bracelet?" He pulls the metallic band from his pockets. "I was smarter than to leave it on the floor."

Closing my eyes, my shoulders sag in relief as I lean on the hard wall to steady myself. This was close—far too close.

Theo crosses his arms and tilts his head with an expectant look. "Talk."

He saved me from getting caught. This could've been the perfect opportunity to rat me out to Atlas but he didn't, he chose to give me a second chance.

So I talk. I explain my plan from start to finish without getting interrupted, only receiving a blank look. By the end of my speech, I'm sitting on the ground with my back to the wall, my feet too worn out after standing in heels for too long. I look up at him through my lashes, suddenly feeling small as he towers over me with an unreadable expression. It's frustrating how I can never tell what he is thinking or what his next actions are based on his face.

"You think my plan is crazy," I sigh deeply.

"No, I think you're crazy." He shakes his head and offers me his hand to pull me up. "Crazy and mad, but not completely wrong."

"What?"

He runs a hand through his short hair and exhales. "Sage, do you think I'm completely oblivious to what my uncle does?" He pauses, thinking of his next words. "I know what goes on behind closed doors . . . I know stuff. That's why I've been spending so much time looking into this."

"Your work." I put the pieces together. "That's what you do when you disappear?"

He gives a tentative nod.

Taking a few steps towards him, I take his hands and look up at him with a serious face, trying to load my words as much possible. He has to know how serious I am. "Theo, you can help me. We can work together, find the information I want, and expose him. It won't be easy but if—"

"No, we can't. Because this is too dangerous. Look at you," he says firmly, eyes gliding over my face, "your eyes are hungry and so wild. I don't think you've thought this through."

I laugh maniacally, the voice too loud in the quiet hallway. "Oh, but I have. I've thought this through every day. You don't see it because you're in the middle of it. The way people like him step on us—people who don't have two nickels to rub together—use us and then discard us like the gum on their designer shoes. I saw it with my own eyes at the funeral of my best friend's father."

I taste something salty in the corner of my lip. Tears. I wipe at them furiously, not breaking my gaze from him. He doesn't look at me in pity the way I'd dreaded. He looks like he understands, but not enough to go against his own blood for me.

"This is trouble . . ."

I take out my phone from the waistband of my skirt and pull the text I received a few days ago.

"I'm already too far in," I reply quietly, showing him the screen.

Defined brows furrow as his navy eyes zigzag across the screen, the corners of his lips pulling down in a frown. It lights up his features, highlighting the birthmark on his brow bone.

"When was this?"

"A few days ago."

"What did you get yourself into?" he murmurs, not taking his eyes off the screen.

I don't say anything. This is it; I already played all my good cards. He can either help me or leave me to it.

"You're still crazy, probably the craziest I've seen." He shakes his head. "But you're going to do it anyway. Whether I help you or not. And I'd rather be there when you do it."

"So, you're going to help me."

He huffs, staring at the locked door. "I don't have a choice do I?" Then he glances at me from the corner of his eyes. "Wait here, I think I know how we can open the door."

"How?"

"He has an office like this in every house and apartment complex he owns. But this is one of the few houses that has a personal bedroom for David's. I'll look for the key upstairs." He touches my shoulder. "Stay here and don't make a sound."

He walks down the hallway, and I wait for him on the cold, marble floor, taking off the torturous heels. The coolness behind my thighs grounds me, and I am able to think clearly again. Looking at the reflection of my phone screen, I see streaked mascara, flushed cheeks, and smudged lipstick where his hands once were. I can't believe I fell apart from the first simple task. Weak, soft, incapable, the words screech in my mind like stainless steel on china plates.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to pull it together. With the pad of my pinkie, I fix the glossy mess around my lips before wiping the black streaks from my face. You won't break again.

Fifteen minutes later, I wonder if he ditched me. With a cold feeling, I realized he might've told Atlas about me. But then, I hear footsteps approaching. I hide in the storage room and hold my breath, in case it's not him.

"Sage, it's me." Theo's cool voice brings me out of the confined space.

A bunch of keys dangle from his finger. It would take us at least ten minutes trying each one of them, and who knows if the key we need is even in that chain.

"Come on, we have to hurry up. Someone must've noticed we were gone by now."

He walks past me and juts the first key in the lock. It doesn't turn.

"Tave and Zain were in a pretty heated argument when I saw them," he mutters, looking at me over his shoulder as he tries turning the second key.

"It's not them I'm worried about."

Silently, he glances at me with an understanding look, a crease forming between his brows. "Yvonne."

"She looks at me like I'm onto something. Well, I am. But I'd rather her just be quiet and look pretty on Atlas's arm."

He scoffs, the fourth key doesn't turn. "She is doing this to look pretty on Atlas's arm." He continues when I don't reply, "Their relationship is one of contracts and agreements. She won't let anything jeopardize that and risk her family's business."

Something clicks in my head, and headlines flash in my mind. "Her dad is Christian Sutton, CEO of that cosmetic clinic with branches everywhere. They have a partnership with David's pharmaceutical company."

With a satisfying tick, the key in his hands turns and the door budges slightly. Theo pushes it open and stands aside to let me step in first, my bare shoulder brushing his soft jacket.

It's dark inside, but there are windows everywhere, the moon illuminating the white, empty, marbled office. A black mahogany desk stands in front of the glass, a black couch in the corner under a cabinet, and a wall made up entirely of flat-screen TV's. My eyes dart to the camera in the corner of the room.

"There are cameras in the office," I hiss. I feel stupid, speaking in hushed tones, but I can't ignore the creeping feeling that someone that can hear us.

"Relax, he won't check them unless we give him a reason to. We just have to keep everything in place, return the keys, and stay hidden."

"Oh, well if that's all," I say dryly, stepping cautiously to the desk. "We should do this more often because it's so easy."

"The more time you spend being a smart mouth, the more likely we'll get caught."

I say nothing and look at the desk. It's organized and empty save for an empty pad of papers and a calendar. I pull open a drawer, careful not to misplace anything, and lightly rummage through it. Stationary, product orders, useless receipts. Nothing that looks fishy or anything worth exposing him for.

I glance at Theo, and he shakes his head where he stands with a hand in the cabinet. Nothing. With a sting of panic, I wonder if there is even any solid evidence that we can use. It's a far reach, and we could been looking for months, waiting for the next screw up.

"I knew it was too easy, finding something here," I exhale as I round the desk. "We should leave."

He nibbles on his lower lip in thought, leaning on the doorknob. It turns the slightest to reveal a coat hanger with a suit jacket hung on it. Something white reflects the dim lighting. Stepping closer, I realize it is a rolled up paper in the chest pocket.

I read it out loud, my blood running cold with every flick of the pen on the paper. It slips through my fingertips, eliciting a sharp gasp from me.

"It's a death certificate . . . For Johnny Miles. The worker that died in September."

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A.N: Hey guys! Don't forget to vote, and comment who your favorite character is! Thank you for reading <3