Not this time,I thought grimly.This time, you don’t get to run.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket and headed for the exit. Whatever trouble she brought home, whatever nightmare she was living in, I was going to find out.
Even if it killed me.
Even if it killed us both.
Chapter Nine
Alex
Abyss was outside my door.
I could hear him shift his weight. The creak of the floorboards betrayed his position every few minutes. Loyal. Obedient. Exactly what Zeus wanted. Exactly what I didn’t need.
My fingers, slick with a cold sweat I couldn’t entirely attribute to the summer heat, fumbled with my phone. The glowing screen mocked me with its passage of time. Each tick was a hammer blow against my resolve. I needed that identity. Needed it now. Every hour I stayed in Athens was another hour closer to whoever owned that seventy-five million finding me. Another hour closer to Oscar or Zeus figuring out what I had done. Another hour closer to dying.
But the image of the ID, the hastily fabricated life I bought with stolen money, flickered in my mind. Was this who I was now? A thief, a liar, living under a borrowed name? A wave of nausea, cold and sharp, washed over me. I had always prided myself on being a person of principle. Now, principle felt like a luxury I couldn’t afford, a relic of a life I’d irrevocably shattered.
I glanced at the window. Second story. The oak tree outside had branches close enough to reach if I were careful.
If I were desperate.
I was both. And that was the terrifying part. I was desperate, but was I so desperate that I was willing to abandon the lastvestiges of who I used to be? The thought of leaving this place, this supposed sanctuary, felt like admitting defeat, like confirming my brother’s worst fears. Yet, staying meant facing certain death. The choice felt like swallowing poison, the only difference being the speed of its effect.
I stood, my legs shaky, and moved to the window. My hand trembled as I eased it open as quietly as possible. The night air rushed in, warm and thick with the smell of cut grass and distant barbecue smoke. Somewhere, a dog barked. Someone laughed. A bike engine revved. Normal sounds. The kind of sounds that belonged to people who weren’t running for their lives, people who hadn’t made the kind of choices that left them stranded between a rock and a hard place, or in my case, a predatory father figure and a looming execution.
I looked down. The drop to the porch roof was maybe six feet. From there, I could shimmy down the support column to the ground. I had done it a hundred times as a teenager, sneaking out to parties Oscar would’ve killed me for attending. Back then, it was an act of rebellion, of youthful exuberance. Now, it felt like a desperate, ignominious escape, a confirmation of my own cowardice.
Refusing to wait any longer, my gnawing fear outweighed the last flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, I could somehow rectify things without running, I grabbed my backpack, stuffed with cash, my fake ID from Rapid City, burner phone, pepper spray, and slung it over my shoulder. My fingers brushed against the smooth plastic of the ID. It felt alien, a symbol of a betrayal of myself. Then I swung one leg out the window and tested the branch.
It held. But so did the weight of my regret, heavy and suffocating, settling in my chest like a stone. I had made my choice. And the bitter taste of it was already beginning to spread. I pulled myself through, my heart hammering so hard I thoughtAbyss might hear it through the door. The bark bit into my palms as I gripped the branch, my feet finding purchase on the narrower limbs below.
Don’t look down. Just move.
I made it to the porch roof, landing with a soft thud that sounded like a gunshot in the quiet night. I froze, waiting for Abyss to come charging around the corner, for Oscar to appear in the doorway. When neither appeared, I scrambled to the edge of the roof and wrapped my arms around the support column, then slid down in a controlled fall that left splinters in my palms and adrenaline screaming through my veins.
The second my feet hit the ground, I ran. My bike was parked two blocks away. I moved it earlier, claiming I needed to grab something from the store. Oscar had been suspicious, but he had let me go with Abyss trailing behind. I parked it at the 7-Eleven, went inside, bought a Coke I didn’t drink, then walked back. Now I sprinted toward it, my breath coming in sharp gasps, my backpack bouncing against my spine.
Please still be there. Please.
It was.
I threw myself onto the seat and started the engine. The sound was too loud, too obvious, but I didn’t care. I kicked it into drive and peeled out of the parking lot, my headlights cutting through the darkness. In the rearview mirror, Athens disappeared behind me.
I didn’t look back.
The abandoned gas station sat just past the county line, exactly whereBrotherDocshad specified. This late at night, it looked like something out of a horror movie. Rusted pumps with shattered displays. Boarded-up windows covered in graffiti. Weeds growing through cracks in the concrete. The kind of place where bad things happened and nobody ever found out.
Perfect place for a deal. Or a murder.
I pulled into the lot and killed the engine, my hands shaking on the steering wheel.
11:03 PM.
I was late.Shit!
I forced myself to breathe. To think. If he wasn’t here, I would figure something else out. I always did. I grabbed my backpack and stepped off my bike. The night was oppressively quiet. No traffic. No crickets. Just the distant hum of the highway and the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
