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“It’s not much, but take what I have. Get away from here. My car is parked in the second garage. You know where that is?”
I nod. I can be shocked at his actions later. Right now I need information. “The keycode for the lock?” I ask, hurriedly.
“Your birth date. Now go.”
I grip both of his forearms and hold his gaze feeding as much gratitude into them as I can dredge from the bottom of my heart.
“Thank you, Axel.” I give him one last look before turning on my heel and putting power into every step I take. Before me is the expansive lawn of the Titan estate.
Hauling my dress up, I put feet to grass and break speed records in crossing the full three-quarters of an acre before floodlights flash on and I hear the shouts of men on my heels. Would they sick the dogs on me?
I don’t wait to find out. Wind rips through the delicate design of my hair causing strands to fall into my eyes. I whip them from my face and push harder.
The secondary garage of cars is tucked just out of sight next to the bungalows.
I swallow the lump of memories threatening to pull me under as I pass the darkened bungalow Hark had once occupied and I keep focused on my end goal: escape.
Cold cobble stones slow my progress, and jagged edges from broken rocks tear at my bare feet. I don’t care. It would take the mighty wrath of Zeus to strike me dead to stop me now.
Trembling fingers and a system soaked in adrenaline make hitting six tiny buttons harder than it seems. It takes a couple of tries before I get it right and the door unlocks. Inside I find the car belonging to the FOB in my hand.
Seconds later I’m flooring it off the Titan property. Bullets pelt the side of the SUV. Glass shatters.
I don’t bother looking in the rearview. Let them come. TonightItake my power back.
Five
Asena
The Titan mansion sits thirty minutes outside New York City limits. Far enough away no one will stick their nose into Titan dealings but not too far from the business my father owns.
Owned, I mentally correct.I swallow a wad of emotions. The second my tires hit the main road leading to the city my first thought is the police. I can go to them, and then what? Tell them I witnessed a killing? And then bring the heat down on not only myself but others. No, I can’t risk that. Not yet. I just need to gather my thoughts. Not everyone with the Titan name is corrupt. One in particular. I have to protect her.
As though my guardian angel is trying to tell me something, a piece of glass from the shattered side window shifts atop my wedding dress magnifying the splatters of blood.
Tucked off the main highway, I spy a small hotel. Checking in my rearview and not spotting anyone, I veer right off a hardly used exit. Only every other street light flickers. The only thing that gives me pause is the steady gleam of the NO VACANCY sign.
Five minutes later my car is tucked behind a large dumpster and I am standing in yet another room. Only this one is dingy, smells like a decade-old pack of cigarettes and the walls can’t be any thicker than a piece of paper.
But I’m free. And that is all that matters.
Lucky for me the clerk at the desk forgot to switch the sign. I didn’t correct him. Let Sean’s goons think I went on to the city.
I grab a towel from the bathroom, its rough edge like a thousand-dollar piece of cotton on my face. Not because it is, but because that is how good freedom feels. Everything is better.
I dab at dried red smears. My fingers tremble as I work, but I force out the thoughts of what is really washing away in the water.
I just have to stay hidden. For now. I grab the wad of cash Axel thrust into my hand from the rickety nightstand and count out the few crisp bills. A little less than two hundred. Long enough to lay low and plan my disappearance. Three or four days is all I need. And then Asena Titan will cease to exist.
First thing, new clothes. Maybe I can get my hands on a burner and call Axel. Would he risk bringing me a few things? I can’t exactly show my face or walk around in a bloody wedding dress.
I turn back to the mirror over a single sink and consider my dress. I could wash it though I would rather burn it.
Over my shoulder, I see a TV and flick it on instead. Washing this monstrosity is a waste of my energy.
Which wouldn’t have been a bad idea given I need to know if my father’s death has reached the news cycle. Common sense says, no, but what I do see is sosomuch worse.
I fall to the bed, unbelieving. It can’t be. That violent rage I felt back in my father’s house roars to life. But this time…oh, this time its claws are unsheathed.
