At that brutal reality check, for the first time in years, Phoebe's mind went completely blank. Every escape route she could think of seemed to vanish one by one. The chaos outside her double doors was amplifying by the second, the heavy wood groaning under the weight of the crowd. Refusing to simply sit there and be slaughtered by the media, Phoebe's survival instincts kicked into overdrive. She wasn't going to face them.
"The executive service elevator," Phoebe commanded through grit teeth, breaking away from Zara. "We go through the back exit. Now!"
Without waiting, she bolted toward the private rear door of her office suite, navigating the hidden, restricted corridor that led to the building's back emergency exit. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she pushed through the heavy metal door, expecting the cold, quiet safety of the rear alleyway.
Instead, the moment the door swung open, she was hit by a blinding wall of strobe lights and screaming voices.
