❝𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡
𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐝𝐞❞
↳ james camden was cursed with a fate equal to death. battered and bruised, with one foot already in the grave, she was nothing but persistent.
...but death was a...
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When James had said she was bad at plans — horrendous would have been a better word to use — she meant it.
In theory, distracting the detectives Harrow had sent and thus buying Steven and Layla time to flee the scene and hide the Scarab, didn't sound like a plan that would end up in a disaster.
But that's how James' plans usually went down. They did sound like they fell within the realms of possibility, simple and even logical, but then, halfway in, the universe liked to remind James that life wasn't a video game and people tend to...not do what you expect of them. It was a frustrating discovery every time.
So, when she'd told Steven and Layla about the plan there were a few things she hadn't considered.
For one, she hadn't expected the two detectives to split up.
She'd thought that maybe she had left just enough of an impression on them to have a certain priority in their eyes. Threatening the personal cult leader tended to do that. But she was wrong. When she'd stepped out of the building and dashed off to the right into a sprint only one pair of steps followed behind her.
For two, she hadn't expected the chase to end so quickly.
She's managed to barely slip from the man's fingers a few times before finally putting enough distance between them to dive into a hiding place behind a pillar. James had grinned triumphantly, thinking that this would buy her at least a few minutes more. Instead, the man turned around and walked off. He didn't even turn around once more before he rounded the next street corner.
James clenched her jaw, her breathing came out ragged and her pulse was throbbing in her temple from the running. Pushing herself away from the metal of the pilar and stepping around she winced as she felt a stinging in her heels. Looking down she saw blood seeping through her white socks and into the heels of her Nike.
Of course, she was wearing the wrong socks for running. Figures.
Lifting her gaze she looked off in the direction the detective had vanished. Had they already caught Steven? Layla?
If they did then they'd bring them to Harrow. And if Harrow would get a hold of the Scarab then...James swallowed thickly.
She had to find them.
James fished out her phone as she crossed the plaza, eyes searching the street nearby for any cabs. If she was able to make it in time, maybe she could stop Harrow from reaching his goal. Maybe she could help Layla and Steven get out of there. She'd spent enough time with Harrow to win them a little bit of time.
