A Night-Shift 911 Dispatcher Receives a Break-In Call for Her Own Home Address, Uncovering Her Politician Ex-Fiancé's Deadly Cover-Up
👉 Previous decision: You chose to call Chloe directly to guide her toward the attic hiding spot.
My fingers fumbled for my phone, finding Chloe’s contact on my encrypted messaging app. The line connected, a faint rustle of bedsheets on her end.
“Chloe,” I whispered, my voice raw, “don’t make a sound. There’s someone in the house. Get the guitar case under the stairs. The papers are inside. Then get to the garage roof. Now.”
A faint gasp. “Maya? What’s going on?”
“Just do it,” I urged, straining to hear over the laptop speakers. The heavy footsteps were directly outside her bedroom door.
“He’s past my room,” Chloe whispered back, her voice shaking, barely audible. “I heard him. He has a gun, Maya. A silenced pistol.”
My breath hitched. A gun. Not a simple robbery. This was professional. Marcus.
Through the laptop, I heard a low growl, a guttural sound. It wasn’t Marcus. It was someone bigger, colder.
“Where is it?” a deep voice rumbled, muffled, coming from the hallway. “Pendelton’s papers. Where are they?”
Arthur Pendelton’s private security agent. The outline’s twist materialized, chilling me to the bone. This wasn’t Marcus himself. He sent muscle. Professional muscle.
Chloe gasped again, a soft, choked sound. The footsteps moved. Closer to her bedroom.
“Chloe, move!” I pleaded into the phone. “Garage roof. Go!”
Silence. Then a sharp clang, as if something metal had scraped against wood.
➡️ Read CHAPTER 8 to continue the story
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