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ChapterThirty-Nine
Irun faster than I've ever run before, injured or not, and I don't dare look back. Adrenaline floods me, my heart pounds in my ears, and it's all I can do not to lose my footing as I go skidding around the corner toward the elevators.
"Stop her!" Lucas's voice echoes in the confined space, and the thundering of footsteps follows moments later.
"What the fuck do you think you're…!" That's Sienna, who lapses into a string of furious Italian as another gunshot, and then a heavy thud, fill the air behind me. I glance over my shoulder to see Lucas's bodyguard on the floor, clutching his thigh, which is already spilling blood.
"Crazybitch!" Lucas shouts as he barrels out the door and down the hall behind me. Terror fills my chest, and I stumble just as my husband skirts around his fallen crony, grasping at me. His fingers find the hem of my shirt, nearly pulling me over, but Liam's training comes to me again just as my legs go out from under me. I allow the motion to carry me backward, rolling over my shoulder with a jolt of pain as I jostle my wounded head… but it works. Lucas's grip loosens, and I tear free just as his bodyguard starts to get to his feet, blocking his path for precious seconds.
It's all the time I need.
With a last burst of stamina, I throw myself into the elevator, smashing the garage button just as Lucas disentangles himself from his henchman. Bullets fly a split second later, denting the metal doors just as they slide closed.
Breathing hard, I sag against the railing as the elevator descends. They'll be on the stairs already, making a beeline for wherever they think I'm getting out. Gambling on being unpredictable, I hold down the door-closed button as we sink past the lobby. I don’t let it go until I slow to a stop below the ground floor, where the parking garage is.Then I'm creeping out into the chilly air, scrambling past rows of cars as I search for a way out. There: a ramp leading out to the street on the other side of the room. I aim for it, glancing over my shoulder, only to suck in a breath when the door to the stairwell swings open.
"...have gotten far." Lucas's voice bounces off the concrete walls as he storms through the doorway, his phone pressed to his ear. Panicking, I drop down behind the nearest car, praying I won't trigger the alarm as my husband stalks through the garage, his gun at the ready.
"I told you, he's down!" Lucas yells into the phone. "That psycho bitch DiMarco shot him! Where the fuckiseveryone? Vivian is loose!"
I sneak a glance around the side of the car and my stomach drops; Lucas is within feet of me, his phone against his shoulder as he systematically sweeps the rows of cars. My alarm turns to panic when I realize he would have never headed for the lobby in the first place; thanks to Lucas, there are more made men working at this apartment complex than actual employees. The bastard is smarter than I gave him credit for. Within seconds, this place will be crawling with goons, and I'll have lost my shot.
"Damnit." Lucas hangs up his call and stops one row in front of me, looking around like a predator on the hunt. Which is, coincidentally, exactly what he is.
I clap a hand over my mouth to muffle my breathing. Everything hurts, but my fear dulls the pain enough for me to get to my feet, stooping over behind the cover of the car.
The sound of me standing reaches Lucas, who whirls around to face in my direction, and it takes everything I have not to cry out in terror. "Is that you, Vivian?" he asks, a malicious grin creeping onto his face. "Some stunt you pulled back there, let me tell you.”
I take a step back, glancing toward the exit. There's no way I'll outrun his gun, but at least I can make him work for it if he doesn't want to kill me by accident.
And if he does? I guess I'll make him work for that, too.
Just as I'm getting ready to make a break for it, Lucas's cell phone emits a sound from his pocket, and he swears as he answers it. "What?" he snaps into the mouthpiece. "No, I'm watching the garage. Hold on." He puts the phone back to his ear, lowering his gun for an instant. "Yeah? What the fuck's taking so long?”
That's all the warning I'm going to get. I sprint out from behind the car and make a run for the exit, but my legs feel like they're filled with lead, and Lucas's gun comes up at the same time. Gritting my teeth, I fling myself up the ramp and out of the garage just as a bullet whines past me. Lucas roars my name from inside, but if I glance over my shoulder, it might be the last thing I ever do.
I'm only a few dozen feet from the street, but it might as well be a mile. I feel like I'm moving through molasses as I sprint over the asphalt and onto the sidewalk, slamming into a duo of passing joggers as I struggle to get my bearings. They shoot me a look as I sprint past, but even among civilians, I'm not out of the woods yet. The commotion from the garage is starting to leak out onto the street, and the old bullet wound in my chest seems to throb as if to remind me of what’s around the corner.
I can hear the sirens of police cars drawing near, likely in response to the shooting, and I slow down, but only for a moment. In a city like London, there's no knowing which cops are bought and paid for.
I choke back a cry of pain as I stumble over the curb and into a nearby alleyway. A few people glance back in surprise, no doubt wondering why a girl who looks like she's about to keel over and die is running like she's been injected with pure adrenaline.
I only slow to a stop once I'm in the safety of the shadows, stealing a nervous glance back at the hotel as I lean against the wall next to an old dumpster. From just beyond the mouth of the alley, I can see the flashing lights of police cars. I can't stay here, or I'll just end up back in the hospital again, listening to Lucas gaslight everyone into thinking I'm crazy, just like he did with Theo. No, I have to keep moving. I shove myself away from the wall and continue my trek down the alleyway, at a slower pace this time. My muscles are already starting to burn from the run, and I can feel a cramp coming on in my side. There's a rumble of thunder, and I glance up just in time to see the first raindrops begin to splatter down onto the asphalt. Shit. I have to find somewhere else to hide until I can come up with a plan.
But where? I glance doubtfully down at my outfit: a loose-fitting t-shirt and jeans with nothing in the pockets except for a few crumpled notes and some loose change. I realize too late that my phone is still plugged in at the apartment, and there's no way in hell I'm going back there.
I don't even have a jacket to keep me warm.
I wrap my arms around my body in a futile attempt to keep warm as the rain begins to pelt down harder around me. As I wander, my mind drifts to the guys with a pang of longing: did Tristan make it out of the car crash? What happened when Theo and Liam got to the safe house and realized we weren't there? Are they still planning to overtake London? God, it feels like a lifetime since I’ve seen them. I would give anything for the feeling of their arms around me again.
Ruminating won't get me somewhere safe for the night, so I shake myself and press onward. But as I wander south towards the river, I'm coming up empty. I can't go back to my parents place', not now that Lucas has poisoned them against me. My sister, Violet, might be willing to help, but there will be no getting her alone as long as she's living with my folks. Callie? Forget about it. I'm not putting her in any more danger, not when mere days ago she was beaten on the job at the art gallery where we used to work together—
I stop dead in my tracks, straining to see through the torrential downpour.That's it, I think. There's only one person in this city who might be able to help me, and whose address I actually know, because I’ve seen it a million times on a million forms and invoices.
It might be a long shot, but it's one I've got to take.
The house is a Victorian-style manor along the banks of the Thames, north of the bridge. The neighborhood is old and posh, and even from down by the river, I can make out the front entrance above me on the hillside, with its brightly-lit doorway and columns lining either side of the walkway. I steel myself and start up the sidewalk, aware of the security cameras that follow my every move from the porch. I look a mess, my clothes rumpled to hell and smeared with dirt. I’m still covered in bruises from the crash, there’s fresh blood trickling out of a cut on my face that I didn’t notice before… and by the time I get to the front door, I’m soaking wet from the rain.
There’s no doing anything about it, though, so I ring the bell, square my shoulders, and pray. There’s a long moment of silence, and then the door swings open to reveal a face I never thought I’d be this happy to see.
