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"Door," I rasp, nodding toward the exit Declan swaggered through earlier. No idea what's beyond it, but it's a damn sight better than waiting here for the hammer to fall.
Evelyn's nod is terse, as if she understands that we have no idea what's waiting on the other side. Evan's small hand finds mine, his grip tight and trusting. My chest tightens, and the tears well up in my eyes.
"Sorry," I choke out, to him, to Evelyn, to the ghost of decency that flickers like a candle flame within me.
"Let's go," Evelyn urges, her voice a soft command.
Together, we shuffle to the door, a trio of misfits bound by blood spilled and shared. My heart hammers, not with fear, but with the determination to get us out alive. For Evan's sake. For whatever scrap of soul I’ve got left.
The door groans on its hinges as we push through, and I’m half expecting another pit of hell, but it’s just an office. Sort of anticlimactic for a den of iniquity. The air smells like stale smoke and cheap cologne—a stark contrast to the metallic tang of blood and sweat we leave behind in the ring.
Evelyn's eyes scan the room. Her gaze lands on a laptop, perched precariously on the edge of a cluttered desk. Without a second thought, she scoops it up, tucking it under her arm. She catches me gawking at her and shrugs, a flush creeping over her cheeks. "You never know what could be on it."
"Resourceful," I manage to grunt out, though every word's a dagger to my jaw.
We inch toward another door across the room, each step a silent prayer not to wake the ghosts that might lurk here. The handle turns with a click that echoes too loudly in my ears, and we slip through.
A burst of cold air slaps me awake, more effective than any adrenaline shot. We're at the back of the warehouse—freedom's within spitting distance. My car squats on the other side, looking like salvation on four wheels.
"Car... there..." I rasp to Evelyn, fighting through the throb in my jaw that wants to swallow my words whole.
"Got it," she says, nodding sharply before she takes off, running with a desperation that mirrors my own.
Guilt claws at my insides. She shouldn't be in this, shouldn't have to sprint through shadows because of me. I send a silent plea to whoever's listening—let her make it back safe.
Evan's grip on my hand tightens, his small fingers cold and determined. We lean into each other, two halves of a shaky whole, waiting in a silence that's thick enough to cut.
The night's chill wraps around me like a familiar enemy as I peer through the gloom. I'm about to lose hope when Evelyn reappears, the noise of the car's engine disturbing the eerie silence around us. She beckons with a frantic wave from the driver's side, and Evan and I hobble over, my body screaming in protest.
We spill into the car, a tangle of limbs and urgent whispers. My eyes snag on the pulled out dashboard and the wires connected together. For a second, I just stare, dumbfounded.
"Hot wiring?" I croak, voice a gravelly mess.
Evelyn flashes me a grin bordering on reckless. “You pick up a few tricks being Frankie Moretti's kid,” she quips, revving the engine.
I can't help but chuckle, low and raspy, shaking my head at the irony. This woman is always surprising me.
We lurch forward, the car barreling towards freedom. The warehouse, that godforsaken pit of violence, shrinks behind us, disappearing into the night like a bad dream. As we speed away, my pulse finally drops from its frenetic dance. The pain in my jaw throbs with every heartbeat.
The city blurs past us, streetlights streaking by like fallen stars. I lean my head against the cool window, watching the world smear into a kaleidoscope of shadows. My thoughts drift, untethered, to places darker than the night outside. I didn't want this for Evan, for Evelyn. I'm supposed to protect, not drag them through hellfire.
Evan's small hand finds mine again. "It's okay to rest now," he whispers.
"Thanks, buddy," I whisper back through the pain, feeling the weight of his trust heavy on my battered shoulders.
My eyelids grow heavy, my body surrendering to the exhaustion. The last thing I remember is Evelyn's determined profile, lit by the dashboard's glow, as she navigates us through the labyrinth of the city's heart. I don't know where she's taking us, but for the first time in my entire life, I give in and trust someone wholeheartedly.
The darkness swallows me whole, granting me a merciful reprieve from the agony and the chaos.
I pass out, my mind slipping into an abyss where even demons fear to tread.
Chapter Forty-Five
I try and calm my nerves as I glance in the rearview mirror. Constantino is slumped sideways, breathing heavily in the backseat. Evan curls against him, innocence asleep amidst sin. It's a messed-up lullaby, and for a second, the silence feels safer than any hideout.
"Made it out," I murmur to myself, voice barely above a whisper. I try and think of where we could go that would be safe. Constantino's apartment is a definite no-go given that's where Declan swiped us. And the mansion? Feels equally as risky. My sister's place crosses my mind, but dragging her and Primo into this hell wouldn't be fair, especially with their new child at home.
"Teddy," I exhale the name. He's the one who got me involved in the first place. He might be my last choice but he's technically my only choice.
