I was still standing there, my heartbeat pounding in my ears, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin, when I heard something coming from above me.
A dog barking.
Tuna.
I turned and ran. Out the store, around the block, down the next one, looking for the tiny alley Alara had mentioned.
It was worse than she’d claimed. I needed to turn halfway to the side to run through.
But finally, there was a small opening and a staircase leading up.
Gun in hand, I flew up them, finding another damn locked door. It took actual restraint not to just knock it down, so I reached for my pick set again and worked the locks loose.
And there was Tuna, two feet in from the door, whining.
The apartment smelled like pee. And as I looked, there was a puddle behind the door where Tuna likely couldn’t hold it anymore.
“One second, bud,” I said, closing the door when he tried to rush out. “Alara!” I called, moving through her apartment, finding the bedroom empty, but the bathroom door closed.
Shit.
If she was in there but not answering me…
No.
I wasn’t letting my mind get away from me.
“Alara?” I called, trying to keep the growing panic out of my voice as I knocked.
“Alara, I’m coming in.”
The lock just took a poke from the pick before springing open.
I pushed the door in.
Then there she was.
Sitting on the floor with her back against the tub, her legs pulled into her chest.
“Fuck,” I hissed when my gaze landed on her face.
There was dried blood coming from her nose and lips, crusted on her chin, and on her shirt. And even in the low light of the bathroom, the blue and purple bruises smattering across her face had my stomach cramping.
“Chrissy?” she murmured, her head lifting slowly, like it was too heavy.
“Yeah, sweetheart, it’s me.” I kept my voice small, gentle. “I’m just gonna take this gun, okay?” I asked, carefully plucking it from her hands, not wanting her to make any kind of mistakeswhen she was so disassociated. I placed it on the sink cabinet and was just turning back toward her when Tuna ran into the room, whining and yipping.
“Oh,” she said, surfacing a bit at her dog’s cries. “I need…”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll take him out. Just give me five minutes, okay?”
She made some sort of sound I took for agreement before I strode out of the bathroom, grabbing the dog and his leash and running down the steps.
Once he was finished, I rushed back into the apartment, cleaning up his mess, filling his water, and finding the fancy dog food she’d mentioned at Brio’s house and filling his bowl.
Finished with that, I washed my hands and made my way back to the bathroom.
“Just me,” I said when she jolted. “Tuna is all taken care of, so we can focus fully on you. How long have you been sitting here, baby?”
