My Story

Previously

…She moved to the door, her hand on the knob. She turned it slowly, pulling the door open just wide enough to see into the corridor. I heard her gasp. Then the door swung open, and I saw who was standing there. It was the gray-eyed woman. She was alive. And she was holding a gun. 'Don't trust her,' she said, looking past the journalist and directly at me. 'She's the one who sent the email.' The journalist stepped back, her face contorting. 'That's a lie.' But the gray-eyed woman didn't lower the gun. And in that moment, standing in the dim light of the printing house, with the midnight deadline closing in and the field officer's life in the balance, I didn't know who to believe.