Chapter 5: The Red Dot in the Dark
The glowing red dot burned against the polished mahogany of the podium, tracing a erratic line upward until it hovered squarely over Maya’s heart. Instinct took over. She dropped flat behind the heavy wooden barrier just as a dull, suppressed pop echoed through the cavernous banquet hall. A splinter of wood exploded outward from the podium edge, scattering dust across her shoulders.
Panic instantly consumed the room. Screams replaced murmurs as guests dove beneath tables, overturned chairs, and scrambled toward the kitchen exits. Arthur Sterling dragged a weeping, trembling Elena down onto the floor behind a heavy velvet curtain.
"Get down! Someone is shooting!" Arthur yelled over the chaotic roar of the crowd.
Maya pressed her back against the inner wall of the stage, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She pulled out her phone, her fingers flying across the screen to check the live stream status. The broadcast was still active, streaming high-definition footage of the chaos to thousands of viewers, including federal investigators who had been tracking the offshore shell companies for months.
Footsteps thumped heavily across the wooden stage boards from the backstage entrance. Someone was hunting her.
Maya unclipped the VIP badge from her blazer, slipping it beneath a heavy stage speaker. She needed to move, and she needed to move fast. Crawling low to the ground, she slipped behind the massive crimson curtain that draped the back of the stage. The backstage area was pitch black, lit only by the faint green glow of emergency exit signs.
"I know you're back here, little girl," a raspy, unfamiliar voice growled from the shadows near the prop room door. "Hand over the flash drive, and maybe you walk out of here with just a scare."
Maya held her breath, pressing herself flat against a stack of rolled-up backdrops. She recognized that voice. It belonged to Marcus Thorne, Elena Vance’s head of private security—a man with a dishonorable discharge from military intelligence and a reputation for making problems disappear permanently.
"You're too late, Marcus," Maya called out, her voice echoing slightly in the dark corridor to draw his attention away from the exit door. "The federal server already decrypted the entire archive. Your name is on the very top of the co-conspirator list."
A heavy boot slammed against a metal folding chair nearby. A flashlight beam cut through the darkness, sweeping frantically across the room, missing Maya by mere inches.
"You think a digital file saves you?" Marcus sneered, his footsteps drawing closer, crunching on stray pieces of plastic and dust. "Digital files can be deleted. People, on the other hand... people are remarkably fragile."
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Maya’s hand brushed against a heavy industrial fire extinguisher mounted to the wall near the emergency exit. Her fingers wrapped around the heavy metal release pin. She pulled it free, braced her feet against the concrete floor, and waited for the beam of the flashlight to sweep across her position one last time.
The light hit her eyes. Marcus lunged forward from the shadows, a heavy steel baton raised high in his hand, ready to strike.
