Chapter 3

3

My scream had barely faded when Bennett's voice cut in, perfectly calm.

"Hey, Arthur! Just finishing up some paperwork for the holiday."

He must have switched the intercom to a private channel. Arthur couldn't hear me.

"Yeah, Elena is inside doing the final inventory check."

"Since it's the last shipment before the break, she wanted to be thorough. We're staying late just to support her in case she needs anything."

Shelby added her sweetest, most innocent voice.

"She's so dedicated, Arthur. We tried to tell her to go home, but you know how she is."

"She even said the cold helps her think clearly. She's such a boss!"

I heard Arthur's voice, muffled but clearly impressed.

"That Elena is a hard worker, alright. Good on you kids for sticking by her."

"Alright then, I'll leave you to it. I'm going to finish my rounds."

The sound of his footsteps faded away.

My last tether to life was severed.

I collapsed onto the floor, staring hopelessly at the impenetrable door.

The intercom switched back to me, and Bennett's laughter was sharp.

"Hear that, Elena?"

"Everyone thinks you're a workaholic hero."

"When they find your frozen body tomorrow, you'll be a martyr for the company."

"They might even name a training manual after you."

Shelby's laugh was even louder now.

"Elena, the top donor just sent a massive tip!"

"He said if you crawl on your knees and bark like a dog, he'll tell Bennett to turn the temp up a few degrees."

"What do you think? Feel like begging?"

The humiliation was a physical weight.

They didn't just want my life; they wanted to strip me of my dignity before I died.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

The cold was winning. My eyelids felt like lead.

I knew the symptoms. This was the late stage of hypothermia.

Soon, I'd slip into a coma, and my heart would simply stop.

Was this really the end?

Dying because of a scheme hatched by my fiancé and his mistress?

The injustice of it burned hotter than the cold.

I used every ounce of my remaining will to pull myself up by the shelving unit.

If they weren't going to let me live, then nobody was going home happy tonight.

As I felt myself starting to slip again, I steadied my hand.

I didn't aim at the specimen canister.

I aimed higher. I aimed at the ceiling, specifically at the thick, yellow foam insulation of the vault.

My movement must have caught Bennett's eye on the monitor.

His smug laughter cut off.

"What… what are you doing?"

For the first time, I heard a tremor of real fear in his voice.

I didn't answer him.

I pulled the trigger.

"Bang!"

The flare shot out with a muffled roar.

A blinding streak of red fire arched through the air like an angry serpent, slamming into the chemical-laden foam!

A second later, the ceiling erupted in flames.

I heard Shelby scream through the intercom―a high, piercing sound of pure terror.

"It's on fire! Oh my god!"

Then Bennett was screaming too, his voice cracking with panic.

"Get the extinguisher! Move! Move!"

But it was too late.

The high-pitched, soul-shattering shriek of the facility-wide fire alarm began to blare.

It was a sound that drowned out all the laughter and all the lies.