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My blood freezes solid in my veins.
They have entered the state.
For a while, all I can do is to stare at that first sentence. My heart hammers in my chest. They have crossed the state line, which means that they’re closing in on me.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I flick a glance down at my go-bag.
I should make a run for it. I should just grab this right now, get to my car, and disappear. I should—
No. Closing my eyes, I drag in deep breaths and force myself to calm down. There is nothing to suggest that they’re coming here because they think I’m here. They’re probably coming here to find Rico. Because he actually used to live here in this state as Enrico Morelli too. That’s why they’re here. To find him. Not me.
Once I have forced my heart to stop trying to crack my ribs, I read the next sentence.
Two people.
That makes sense. They have sent the two people who were with me the night we were supposed to have wiped out most of the Morelli family. They have been sent both as a punishment and a reward. They were supposed to make sure that Rico died that night, and they are in part responsible for the fact that he didn’t. So they have been ordered to find him so that they can drag him back and then finish the job. With interest. And to do the same with me. To drag me back to face torture and then death. To exact vengeance for the fact that I dared to disobey.
I read the final part of the message.
Will update as soon as I can pin down a more exact location. Stay alert.
Heaving another deep sigh, I send back ‘Received’ before turning off the phone again. After I swap out the powerbank for a freshly charged one, I zip up the bag and then close the lid on the box again. The padlock clicks as I snap it into place.
My mind churns as I head back to my car and then drive to another parking lot closer to the city center. As I walk to where I’m supposed to meet Rico, I run through the options in my head.
The Hands of Peace are coming.
There is no mistake about that.
I could run. But there is nowhere for me to run to. They will never think to look for me at Blackwater University. And besides, they’re not even here for me. They’re here for Rico.
The thought sends a stab of panic through my spine.
Should I warn him? But there is no way to do that without revealing who I really am. And if I tell him the truth about that, things will only get worse. Either he will kill me himself, or he will make such a ruckus about everything that the Hands of Peace will find us both. Which will just end with both of us dead anyway.
Something cold and sharp and slimy twists in my stomach.
So I… what? Just let them waltz right in and kill him?
I shake my head. No. That won’t happen. Rico is the sole surviving Morelli heir. His grandfather must have people out looking for them too. They will see my former colleagues coming and protect Rico before anything happens.
Straightening my spine, I nod to myself. Rico is not my problem. My own survival is all that matters.
The words taste sour even in my own mouth.
But I stubbornly block it out as I at last reach the meeting spot. Rico isn’t there yet, so I take up position by the glass windows that belong to the closest shop. And then I wait.
I’m half an hour early, but I didn’t want to give Rico a chance to somehow track where my car came from.
While I wait, I watch the people stroll along the street. Talking. Laughing. Window shopping. It makes me unreasonably sad. Because I know, in the depths of my nonexistent heart, that I will never be able to do that. Even if I survive the next week, the next year, or the next three years at Blackwater, I will be on the run from the Hands of Peace my entire life.
They will never stop wanting me dead. The best that I can hope for is that the worst intensity of their hunt will gradually fade during the three years I will spend hiding at Blackwater, so that I at least have a shot at making it out of the country afterwards without them finding out. But even then, even if I somehow manage to make it to another country unnoticed, I will still have to live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. In case they find me.
Bitterness crawls up my throat.
I fucking hate them all and I wish I could just slaughter them all so that I can finally start living. A real life. I would wade through rivers of blood and crawl over corpses for a chance to have a real fucking life.
