The party dissolved quickly after Baron's exit. Bethel murmured an excuse about a migraine and grabbed her purse.
She was halfway down the hall when Chynna came running out, her face flushed and her steps unsteady.
"Bethel! Wait!"
Chynna grabbed Bethel's arm, swaying slightly. "God, can you believe him? So moody. Genius types, right?"
Bethel tried to pull away. "I really need to go, Chynna."
"No, listen," Chynna whispered, leaning in too close. Her breath smelled of expensive Chardonnay. "You don't get it. You have to forgive him. Do you know who his family is?"
Bethel's pulse skipped a beat. "I don't keep up with D.C. gossip."
"His grandfather was a four-star General," Chynna said, widening her eyes. "His dad chairs the Senate Armed Services Committee. Baron isn't just an engineer. He's... he's handling stuff that doesn't exist yet. NASA and DoD joint projects."
Chynna giggled, a hiccup escaping her. "Preston said the background check to even date a Lowery is insane. Like, if you stole a candy bar in third grade, the FBI knows. If your family has any dirt... poof. You're gone."
The blood drained from Bethel's face. It wasn't surprise that chilled her, but a sickening wave of confirmation. The words weren't new information; they were the very bars of the cage she had locked herself in five years ago, now being described to her by an oblivious jailer. The weight of that knowledge, a burden she carried alone, pressed down on her, stealing the air from her lungs.
"Imagine," Chynna continued, oblivious to Bethel's terror. "If you had a criminal in the family? Baron would be stripped of his clearance before the first date was over. He's here to clean up a mess in the Houston program. He's ruthless."
Bethel felt sick. Her father was currently sitting in a federal penitentiary for federal fraud tied to a suspected treason case. If she had stayed with Baron, his career would be ash.
"I have to go," Bethel choked out.
"Okay, okay! Come to the bachelorette party! Promise!"
Bethel nodded blindly and turned toward the elevators. The display showed the car was stuck on the top floor. She couldn't wait. She couldn't risk seeing anyone else.
She pushed open the heavy door to the stairwell.
The concrete space was cool and dimly lit. Her heels clicked loudly on the metal steps, the sound echoing in the vertical shaft. She needed this quiet. She needed this escape.
She descended one flight, clutching the railing.
Then she smelled it.
Cedar and expensive tobacco.
She stopped. Her hand froze on the cold metal rail.
Below her, on the landing between floors, a tall shadow was leaning against the wall. The orange cherry of a cigarette glowed in the darkness, illuminating the sharp line of a jaw.
Baron was waiting.
He wasn't looking at her. He was looking at the smoke curling up from his fingers. He hadn't been gone for more than ten minutes, yet he was here, perfectly positioned in her only escape route. He hadn't fled in anger; he had set a trap.
"Taking the stairs?" his voice rumbled up to her, low and vibrating against the concrete walls.
Bethel's breath hitched. She turned to run back up, but the heavy door above her clicked shut.
Baron dropped the cigarette and crushed it under the heel of his shoe. He looked up. His eyes were dark voids in the dim light.
"Running away again, Bethel?"
