Before he could step toward the chest, footsteps echoed sharply from somewhere near the warehouse entrance. Rowan froze. Someone else had entered the building. The scrape of shoes on concrete confirmed he was no longer alone. Whoever it was, they hadn’t come by accident; they were searching.
Rowan hid behind a pillar, clutching the key hard enough to hurt. Two men with flashlights entered, speaking in low, clipped voices. One muttered, “He came here. He must’ve opened it.” Rowan’s chest tightened. Someone had been following him. Why hadn’t he been more careful?