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"Look, they have all these kinds," I say, scrolling through the options. Pepperoni, sausage, supreme—an endless list of choices when it feels like we have none.
"Can we get the one with the pineapples?" His eyes light up as he points to the Hawaiian special.
"Controversial choice, kiddo, but yeah, let's do it." My lips twitch into a real smile this time. Maybe the sweetness of pineapple can mask the bitter tang of fear, even if just for tonight.
I hesitate, taking a deep breath, trying not to let my emotions show.
"Is he gonna be okay?" Evan's gaze locks onto mine, searching for reassurance.
"He's tough. The toughest guy I know," I lie smoothly, hoping it's enough. For both our sakes.
"Good," Evan nods solemnly, and then a hint of excitement sneaks back into his voice. "Can we get chocolate cake too?"
"Sure." I chuckle, relenting. "Chocolate cake it is."
As I place the order, I let myself believe in the fantasy—of greasy boxes of pizza, decadent slices of cake, and a night without the shadow of the Maldonado legacy hanging over our heads. Maybe we can pretend we're just a family, not fugitives hiding from the dangerous web we're entangled in.
"Okay, food's on the way," I tell Evan, pocketing my phone. "Thirty minutes or less, and we'll have our feast."
"Yay!" His cheer is infectious, pulling a laugh from somewhere deep inside me.
"Come on, let's try to finish this puzzle before the pizza gets here," I suggest, gesturing to the scattered pieces on the table.
Evan tosses another puzzle piece onto the table, his interest clearly waning. "Can we do something else?"
"Sure thing. How about a movie?"
"Okay!" He bounds over to the living room.
We settle on the couch together, scrolling through the limited selection. My mind can't help but wander to Constantino again. I wonder how he's faring, and whether he'll come back to us intact—or at all.
"Ooh, that one!" Evan points at the screen, where the preview of an animated film flickers with vibrant colors.
"Perfect." I hit play and draw him close, enveloping his tiny frame against mine. The warmth of his body seeps into me, a balm to the chill of my fears. The movie starts, and for a while, I let myself be carried away by talking animals and simple moral lessons—so distant from the blood and shadows that stain our reality.
"Will Constantino like this movie?" Evan asks innocently, looking up at me with hopeful eyes.
"I bet he will," I lie, because I don't really know what Constantino likes, aside from power and control.
"Good." He snuggles deeper into my side, content. "He can watch with us when he gets back."
We're just getting to the part where the hero faces his darkest moment when a knock at the door jolts us both. It's been thirty minutes already? I tell myself it's just the pizza, the ordinary life encroaching on our hideaway.
"Stay here, munchkin," I say, easing Evan off my lap. "I'll get it."
Heart racing with a mix of anticipation for cheesy goodness and dread for what might lurk beyond the door, I make my way over and swing it open.
"Declan..." The name falls from my lips like a curse. The sight of him sends ice through my veins, the Irish mobster from the hospital now standing before me, his full beard framing a cruel smirk.
"Evening, lass." His voice is a low growl, mocking the fear that must be plain on my face.
"Hide, Evan! Hide now!" I scream, but it's too late. Declan shoves past me, the cold metal of his gun pressing against my temple.
"Quiet, Doc. Wouldn't want things to get messy, would we?" His words are a velvet threat, a whisper of violence as he forces me backward, gun unwavering.
"Please," I beg, voice quivering, "just take me. Leave the kid out of this."
"Ah, but we're all in this little game together, aren't we?" Declan's eyes glint with malice, enjoying the terror he instills.
