You and your insatiable curiosity had gotten you into a whole lot of trouble this time.

Taking the stairs two—almost three—at a time, your mind raced for an escape plan. Running down might have offered more options, if only a group of very angry and very loud men wasn't hot on your heels, their shouts an ugly mix of profanity and death threats.

Imagine dying because of your job, ha-ha...

You clutched your camera tighter and spotted a door marked "Staff Only." You didn't care what was behind it as long as it could help you. Stumbling through, you grabbed a nearby chair and wedged its leg through the door handle.

There. Phew. You've got some time.

You crouched, placing the camera—gently!—on the floor. If you made it out of this alive, you'd be rich. At least, that was the hope. The photos you'd snapped were worth hundreds of dollars each.

Your fingers trembled as you pulled out your phone. Damn it, the signal was practically nonexistent here.

"911, what's your—"

A soft ping.

"What the—?"

You looked at the screen. Fantastic. The call had dropped.

"You hear something?"

"Nah. But it's too quiet. This bitch is close."

Shoot. You bit your lip and dialed 911 again.

"Sorry, this number is not available. We are redirecting you to another emergency number."

"SDN, what's your—"

"Ocean Warehouse, A-32!" you hissed, scrambling further from the door. "Fifth floor! Hurry!"

You hung up and grabbed your camera, pressing your back against the wall beneath the window, your eyes locked on the door.

"I heard something. In here."

The door rattled. They'd heard you.

"Shit, it's locked."

It shook again, then again. With every impact, the chair leg bent a little more, creaking in protest.

This was it. You were done for—

Your eyes flickered to the wall as you noticed something. Was it… melting? No, burning? What the hell was happening?

Suddenly, you were face-to-face with a woman—a very tall woman. Her golden eyes scanned over you with a flicker of confusion, as if she had been expecting someone else. Then her gaze shifted to the door, which was splintering under the assault.

A barricaded door, you cowering on the floor, and some guys really desperate to get in... Yeah, she's got the gist.

She stepped closer and offered you a hand. "I suppose you are the one who needs help?"

She pulled you to your feet with ridiculous ease, as if you weighed no more than a kitten. You just nodded, your mind still reeling from the adrenaline, and received a casual ruffle of your hair.

Now you really felt like a house cat.

"Relax, babe," the woman smirked down at you. "So, what's the plan? Should I take care of them, or we're leaving?"