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Robert is powerful enough to keep certain roads clear at his leisure. All it takes is money pressed into the right hands to have traffic temporarily diverted, robbing us of any helpful passerby.
And blocking off the route of any potential rescue from a certainmafiyaleader in the process.
“We can’t stay here.” I shoulder the door open on my end and step out onto shockingly cold gravel. A chilling breeze cuts through the thin fabric of my nightgown and reinforces the fact that I’m barefoot.
So are Ama and her son.
Just how far will we make it like this? Biting my lip, I smother the thought.
“Come on. We need to keep moving.” I reach back into the van and grab the knife, holding it awkwardly in my damaged hand.
“We’re ready.” Ama moves stiffly, never letting go of her son for a second. Once out of the van, she faces me. “Where will we go…” She trails off, her eyes wide as she takes me in in the full light of day.
I know I’m staring at her as well.
She’s alarmingly pale. So pale that she glows, but the pallor just enhances her beauty. And her smooth, unblemished skin only serves as a harsh contrast to mine: sliced and bruised and swollen.
“I don’t know,” I say as I turn away, shrouding as much of my face as I can behind my uninjured hand. “Come. Let’s go.”
“Ama!”
I look back and find the boy squirming in her arms.
“It’s her,” he says, pointing at me. His other hand claws at his neck and tugs a necklace from beneath the collar of his shirt. It’s beautiful, if simple: a slender gold chain supporting a square-shaped charm. “The angel—”
“Hush, my darling.” Ama turns his face toward her chest and shushes him until he goes silent.
My cheeks heat as I turn toward a swath of trees—the only coverage in view—and start walking, wincing as the uneven terrain tears at my bare heels. In theory, two women and a child shouldn’t go far without being recaptured.
But, somehow, we reach the edge of the forest unaccosted. From there, it’s a slow, painful trek toward nowhere. Brambles claw at my skin. Holding the knife, I’m weighed down as much as Ama. My exhausted, broken body can only go so far before my legs threaten to give out entirely.
“We…need…rest,” Ama croaks in between panting breaths. Her arms quiver as she readjusts the boy on her hip. “Just for a moment—”
“We can’t,” I insist, even as my trembling hand clings to a nearby branch for balance. I feel it in the pit of my soul: If we stop now, it’s over. “They’ve had nearly a day to hunt us down.”
As I retrace our steps in my head, I realize how pathetically little we’ve traveled overall. Finding us will be child’s play if they aren’t encroaching on our position already.
And, God, I can sense them now: specters in every flickering shadow and rustling of distant leaves. I tighten my grip on the knife as much as possible, but with as weak as I am, I can barely brandish it higher than my knee.
Still, I stagger forward, grasping for another tree or branch. “We can’t stop moving—”
“Someone’s coming!” Ama cries.
Panic surges up my throat, robbing my voice, as my straining ears catch the same sound: the telltale crunch of footsteps expertly traversing the underbrush.
“N-no.” Moisture floods my eyes, and it takes every ounce of strength I can muster to blink back the forming tears. “Hide,” I spit toward Ama, but I don’t check to see if she obeys.
Instead, I shift my focus toward putting as much distance between us as possible—and making as much noise as I can in the process.
I’ll die rather than go back to Robert, but maybe I can ensure that I’m the only one forced to choose that fate.
And it seems our pursuer has taken the bait. His footsteps advance on me rapidly, growing less stealthy the closer he comes. Soon, I can hear him breathing. Panting.
I wait until I assume he’s close enough to grab me. Then I pivot, lashing out with the knife. “Stay away from me!”
He grunts in shock, narrowly avoiding the blade. Then he grabs my arm and the game is over. Iron strength nearly takes me off my feet.
“Do you really think you can stab me, Little Rose?” he hisses.
