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Constantino leans heavily against the frame. I can see the grimace of pain that contorts his features, the green of his eyesdimmed by agony. He's still standing, which seems nothing short of miraculous, but his legs buckle, and I know he's moments away from collapse.
"What now?" My words are raw, stripped of pretense. This isn't about anger or desire anymore; it's about survival.
"We get out of here," he says, and even though his voice is weak, there's a steel beneath it. "Is there a back way out?" His voice is hoarse, his question urgent.
I hesitate, my mind scrambling. "We need to stitch you up first." My hands are steady, but inside I'm shivering, fragments of fear embedding themselves into my skin.
"No time," he gasps. "Cops are already here."
"Okay." It's not okay, but we move. I guide him as best I can, the little boy’s hand in mine, while Constantino leans on me more than I expect.
We slip through the hospital corridors, both of us keeping our heads down. The linoleum feels cold and unforgiving underfoot, a stark contrast to the warmth of Evan's small fingers wrapped around mine.
"Where's my dad?" Evan's voice breaks through the tense silence, a small, scared sound that tugs at something deep within me.
I squeeze his hand gently, my throat tight with words I can't yet form.
Every step towards the exit is heavy with dread. We reach the back door, slipping out into the cool embrace of the night. The air tastes of freedom laced with danger, an ironic cocktail that burns down my throat.
We make our way to the front, dodging between parked cars and ambulance bays. Every shadow seems to hide a threat, every siren wail feels like it's sounding just for us. But we finally reach my car, which suddenly seems like the most beautiful escape pod I could ask for.
The engine roars to life under my touch, a growl of defiance against the chaos we leave behind. We drive, the streets a blur of dark shapes and fleeting lights. Evan's question hangs unanswered in the air, a heavy silence that blankets us.
"Where is he?" The repetition of his query is heartwrenching. I catch Constantino's eye, but his face gives nothing away—just pain and exhaustion etched into every line.
I want to tell the little boy that it'll be alright, to weave a story of hope and reunion, but I can't lie to him, not about this. Instead, I focus on the road before us, the hum of the engine a cocoon against the harsh reality waiting to crash down.
The mansion looms ahead. I pull into the driveway, but I still don't feel safe. Constantino's labored breathing fills the space, along with Evan's soft sniffles.
"Are we safe?" Evan whispers, peering out into the darkness that shrouds the grandiose facade.
"I'm not sure," I whisper back, my grip on the steering wheel loosening as the world steadies for just a moment.
Chapter Thirty
I'm leaning against the doorframe, watching her tuck in Sebastian's boy. The kid's got these big eyes, all heavy with a day that's weighed down his soul more than any child should ever bear. "Daddy?" His voice is a whisper lost in a storm.
Evelyn doesn't miss a beat. She smooths back his hair, her fingers tender, like they're weaving reassurance into each strand. "We'll talk about everything when you wake up, okay? For now, just close your eyes and sleep."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
The kid buys it, snuggling into the blankets as if they could shield him from the ugly truths waiting out there. I feel the shame burning through me, a fire I can't put out. We're here because of my decisions, my war. And Sebastian... I can't even begin to stomach what his loss means for this innocent kid.
"Will you sing to me?" he murmurs, blinking up at Evelyn.
She hesitates, just a fraction of a moment where her blue eyes dart towards me, uncertain. Then she settles beside him, her voice rising softly. It isn't some radio-hit lullaby; it's richer, deeper. A melody that seems to pull at the very threads of the night.
"Once upon a time," she starts, and damn if her voice isn't the kind that makes you believe in fairy tales—even when you've spent a lifetime tearing them apart.
I'm stuck there, frozen, listening. Her singing's beautiful, yeah, but it's more than that. It's her being here, in this mess, because of me. She's too good, too damn pure for this world I've dragged her into, and here she is, soothing a child to sleep while violence breathes down our necks.
Evelyn shouldn't have to deal with any of this. I hate myself for it, for everything I've caused. My life's like some twisted Midas touch, but instead of gold, everything I lay hands on bleeds.
I should have kept her away from all this. I should keep everyone away. Because no matter where I turn, anyone with the misfortune of crossing my path ends up hurt. Or worse.
"Sleep, baby, sleep..." Her voice fades as the kid's eyes finally close, his breathing evening out. It's a temporary peace, one I know won't last. But tonight, Evelyn's song has cast a spell, and for a moment, just a moment, the darkness retreats.
