Page 6 of Marked By the Devil

Normal, law-abiding citizens didn’t stroll down alleyways and prey on single women for shits and giggles. If he was coming from where that meeting was supposed to take place, he was armed. He was dangerous.

Another glance over my shoulder had me wincing.

He was closer.

Not much of a buffer existed between us, and I damned him all over again for being so tall, competing with the stride I could try to aim for as someone a full head shorter than him.

Whoever he was, I couldn’t let him get me. I couldn’t be caught and questioned. Not only because I was an agent of the law but because I wouldn’t even know what the hell to say!

Hurrying to find a way out through this dark alley, on my own, I couldn’t escape this confusion that clogged my mind.

I didn’t know why those shots were fired. I wasn’t confident about what I could tell from one shot being aimed at me.

Assessing the situation was a vital first step to any complication in a case.

This was basic stuff.

Assess. Ascertain. And act.

That alliterative phrase had been drilled into me during my time at training.

The protocols that we learned well before we graduated and could apply for vacancies in fieldwork. I wasn’t a seasoned agent with decades of experience like Smithson. But I also wasn’t a young golden retriever kind of puppy that Brayden was, either.

Come on. Focus.

I had to think with my brain, not my emotions. They merged into a toxic blend of trepidation and desperation. But I couldn’t do that.

You know better.

Think, Wren.

Think and use your brain. Keep your cool and stay calm.

There’s a way out of this.

There always is.

I couldn’t outrun this brute who followed me, so I had to find a way to hide or slip away without him detecting my subterfuge.

I was armed, but I had to make sure that I could find an advantageous angle to fire at him and not miss.

In short, it seemed hopeless.

Be logical.

Don’t let the fear get to you.

Assess. Ascertain. And act.

No matter how many times I rehearsed in my mind what I should do, it seemed impossible to fantasize about how things turned in my favor.

I was cornered.

Stalked.

And I couldn’t rely on anything that I’d experienced or studied in my law enforcement degree or the camp and trainings I’d endured for the agency.

Because this wasn’t supposed to happen.