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“There’s a man here. My mom—” she chokes on the words, letting out a hushed sob. My whole chest lights with fire as I realize she’s in danger. That whore Margaret has put her in danger.
“I’m scared…” Her words hit me like a semi-truck leaving behind a deep ache in my chest.
All I want to do is wrap her in my arms and keep her sheltered from everything that could ever scare her. I have to save her. Then I’ll let go. This is the last time, I swear. Faith lets out another keening cry, and my jaw clamps shut.
“I’m on my way, Faith. I promise. It’ll be okay.”
She sniffles, taking in a sharp breath. I can hear raucous laughter behind her, and my blood boils. How dare Margaret laugh when her own daughter is scared out of her mind. How dare she. I nearly stomp on the brakes as my speedometer passes seventy-five, eighty, eighty-two…
“My mom owes him a lot of money, and he said he’s going to…he’s gonna come into my room—” her voice breaks, and she sobs again, then shushes me. “They’re upstairs, don’t talk,” she whispers.
I can hear a knock at her door, and Faith takes a breath to steady herself. She hiccups slightly. Every single muscle in my body is as tight as a stretched rubber band. I have tunnel vision now, I only see enough to know that I don’t hit anyone, and no cops chase me. As I listen in, I am overcome with primal, beastly rage. Only God knows how fast I’m driving.
“Faith,” Margaret’s voice calls, faint on the call. But rage has made my hearing supernatural, and every syllable is clear to me. “Are there any more cookies?”
She’s slurring. Drunk as hell. My inner narrative alights.
Whore bitch cunt asshole deviant washed-up prom queen slut.
“I don’t know, Mom,” Faith calls back, just barely holding her voice level. I’m almost to the exit. I’m almost there. I flash my eyes down to the speedometer and realize I’m nearly at a hundred MPH. I take a deep breath and release the gas, letting myself fall back to seventy. Thankfully, the roads are mostly clear today.Mostpeople are staying home.
Margaret mutters something indistinct, then there’s a few moments of silence. I hear rustling as I make it back into town, and Faith picks the phone up.
“Please, help me, Vincent. He’s going to hurt me.”
“Don’t worry, Faith. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
She sniffles again, and through the rage, I feel a soft tendril of love. The instinct to protect and nurture. Maybe the best way to protect Faith is by keeping her with me.
“Thank you, Vincent,” she says. “Are you almost here?”
“Five minutes, darling. Then I’ll take you somewhere safe. Pack anything you desperately need right now. I’ll buy you everything else.”
“Do you mean it?” Her voice sounds so hopeful, almost like this is exactly what she wanted, me taking her away.
“Of course, I mean it, just stay in your room until I get there, okay?”
“Okay. I–I can do that.”
Faith lets out a steady exhale, and I smile. I blast through a red light, knowing I’ll be with my love in mere seconds. Almost home. Almost there.
“I’m going to hang up now,” she says in a steadier voice. Her breath sounds less panicked. I smile softly as I pull into our neighborhood, dropping to a slower speed to make it through the snow.
“I’ll be there in sixty seconds,” I say softly. Then she hangs up.
In forty seconds, I make it into my driveway, park, turn off the car, and run to Faith’s home. The front door isn’t even latched. That wino bitch couldn’t even close her own front door.
I kick it in. I’m greeted with the sight of an obliterated Margaret’s jaw dropping open. She screams wordlessly, falling back into the arms of her lover.
Who I recognize immediately.
You gotta be fucking kidding me?
Rico. My boss’s brother. Frederico’s father. Fuck. I got away with killing his son, but will I get away with this one? Tony was never fond of his nephew, which is probably why he never looked into his death, but Rico is a different matter. This is worse than I expected.
“Vincent!” he says in a false-jovial tone.
“Rico,” I growl. My fists are curled at my side. His smug, bloated face is especially worn today. He’s in his forties, but the years of partying and no consequences have taken a toll. He doesn’t sound drunk, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t. “What a delightful surprise. Would you like to share?”
