67

Through the ride, the woman occasionally peeked at I and Dominic at the back seat through the rear view mirror. I could see the tension in her, the tiny reluctantcy and regret as if she should have left us there on our own.  Sweat laced her temples. Her hands clutched at the steering wheel, from time to time, she adubily gulped.

Every time she looked into the rear view mirror, I glared until Dominic gave a weak, raspy laugh next to me. "My eyes are closed, but I feel your glares."

I and the woman's grey eyes connected for the briefest seconds before I averted to look at Dominic by my side. His eyes were indeed closed, his face pale under the streetlights we sped after. His chest heaved and trembled shakily with every breath he drew in as if the air was nothing but pain. For a second, his breathing seized and I instantly panicked. The instant Dominic’s breath seized, my heart leapt to my throat. I grabbed his hand, shaking him gently. "Dominic?" My voice was barely above a whisper, terrified to draw the driver’s attention.

He didn’t respond. His head lolled slightly, and his grip on my hand slackened.

Panic surged through me. My fingers tightened around his. "Dominic, stay with me." I leaned closer, my voice trembling. "Do you trust her?" I asked, nodding toward the woman in the front seat, though he couldn’t see it.

He didn’t answer.

"Dominic!" I hissed, my voice sharper now. My pulse was racing. Still, there was nothing but the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

I bit my lip hard, my mind spinning. Then, in desperation, I shifted closer and slapped him across the face, my palm connecting with his cheek in a loud, sharp sound.

Dominic jolted, a strangled gasp escaping him as his eyes shot open.

"Goddamn, Eleanor," he rasped weakly, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. "That hurt."

My chest tightened in relief. "You stopped breathing," I snapped, though my voice cracked at the end. "What was I supposed to do? Watch you die?"

His laugh was hoarse and broken, like the sound scraped its way out of his throat. "Wouldn’t have been the worst way to go. Except—" He grimaced, his hand pressing weakly against his ribs. "It hurts less when I hold my breath. Feels like… less knives stabbing me."

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. "Don’t you dare hold your breath again. Don’t you dare," I whispered fiercely. "We’re almost there. Just hold on."

He nodded faintly, his head leaning back against the seat. For a moment, I thought he might drift off again, but then he added, "You’re going to scare her off, you know. She’s already nervous as hell, and your death glares aren’t helping."

I shot him a look, half irritated, half relieved he was still able to tease me. "She should be nervous. Who picks up strangers on the side of the road at night?"

"Desperate people," he murmured, his voice fading slightly.

"Dominic." My voice wavered, bringing his attention back. "Hang on, okay? You’re not allowed to die on me. I won’t let you."

His eyes cracked open just enough to meet mine. "Bossy," he muttered, but there was no bite in his words.

I tried to steady my breathing, the lump in my throat nearly choking me. To distract him—and myself—I asked, "Do you think Analia knows about Bunny?"

His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his features. "If she knows…" He paused, his voice strained. "She’ll go after Vaughn herself. No hesitation. She won’t wait for backup."

"She’ll be reckless," I said softly, my gaze drifting to the blurred lights outside the window.

"She’ll be Analia," he corrected with a dry, humorless chuckle that quickly turned into a grimace.

The woman in the driver’s seat cleared her throat, startling me. She cast another quick glance at us in the rearview mirror, her grey eyes darting nervously. "Sorry to interrupt," she began hesitantly. "But… how did this happen?"

I stiffened, instinctively pressing closer to Dominic.

"Did the cops shoot you?" she pressed, her voice trembling.

Dominic and I exchanged a glance. Before either of us could respond, she continued, her words spilling out in a nervous rush. "What did you do to end up like this?"

Her hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles turning white.

I narrowed my eyes at her reflection in the mirror. "Maybe you should focus on driving instead of interrogating us."

Dominic groaned softly beside me, shaking his head. "She’s just curious, Eleanor."

"She’s nosy," I muttered, crossing my arms.

The woman’s voice wavered as she spoke again. "I just… I want to know if I’m helping the right people. If I’m not going to regret this later."

Her words hung heavy in the air.

Dominic shifted slightly, his voice low but steady. "You’re not going to regret this."

She looked like she wanted to say more but clamped her mouth shut, her lips pressing into a thin line.

Silence stretched in the car, broken only by the hum of the engine and Dominic’s labored breathing.

"How much farther?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

"It's still thirty minutes," the woman said, her voice unsteady as she glanced at the GPS again.

"Thirty minutes?" I snapped, my voice rising in panic. "He might not make it that long! He needs help now—"

Before I could finish, Dominic's hand weakly lifted and grabbed mine, his fingers cold but firm enough to stop my words. His grip wasn’t strong, but it was enough to quiet me.

"Eleanor," he murmured, his voice rough, barely above a whisper. His eyes cracked open, and though they were hazy with pain, there was something steady in his gaze. "Calm down."

I pressed my lips together, swallowing the lump in my throat. My free hand clenched into a fist on my lap, but I didn’t argue.

"You’re not helping," he continued, his tone soft but with a trace of firmness. "Be nicer."

I blinked, taken aback. "Be nicer?"

"Yeah." He managed a faint, rasping chuckle. "You’re gonna scare her off, and then what? We’re stuck in the middle of nowhere. So... be nice. At least fake it."

I wanted to argue, to tell him it wasn’t the time for jokes or lessons in manners, but the weak squeeze of his hand silenced me again.

I looked down at him, his face pale and slick with sweat, and the fight in me ebbed away. "Fine," I muttered reluctantly, my voice barely audible.

"Good girl," he said, his smile faint but teasing.

I shot him a glare, though there was no heat behind it, and turned back toward the front seat. "How long did you say again?" I asked the woman, trying to keep my tone neutral.

"Thirty minutes," she repeated cautiously, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.

I bit back another retort and forced myself to nod. Dominic’s hand remained on mine, grounding me in my silence.

In that moment, the weight of his fragile grip spoke louder than words. So I stayed quiet, holding his hand as the car sped through the night.

The woman cleared her throat, her voice still trembling as she broke the silence. "You know," she began, glancing briefly in the rearview mirror, "I've been listening to the news all day. They’ve been saying all sorts of things about you two."

I tensed, my grip on Dominic's hand tightening instinctively.

"They said you're both from... mafia families," she continued, her voice unsteady. "That you’re dangerous criminals. Some kind of... underworld power struggle. I didn’t even know gangs still worked like that in this day and age."

Her words were riddled with hesitation, as though she wasn’t sure if she believed them herself. Each word grated on my nerves, and I opened my mouth to correct her, but Dominic squeezed my hand tightly and gave the faintest shake of his head.

I frowned, glancing at him. His eyes were barely open, but the silent warning was clear. Don’t say a word.

"Of course," the woman went on, her voice wavering slightly, "you don’t look like... well, like how they described. You’re not what I pictured when they said mafia—" She stopped herself, as if realizing how absurd she sounded. "But then again, what do I know about that world?"

My jaw tightened, and again I opened my mouth, only for Dominic’s hand to clamp down harder, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

The woman didn’t seem to notice our silent exchange. She kept going, her words spilling out in a nervous rush. "They also said you—uh, the guy—might’ve been the one who started a shootout in the city last night. But that doesn’t make sense. You don’t seem... well..." She trailed off, her fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white.

I let out a sharp breath through my nose, my frustration boiling beneath the surface. Dominic's grip loosened slightly, but I stayed silent, biting back every correction that threatened to slip out.

"And then," the woman continued, her voice growing even shakier, "there was something about... oh, what was it?" She wracked her brain, her eyes flicking nervously between the road and the mirror. "Oh! Yes, one of you has a... an autistic brother, I think? He was on TV yesterday, talking about—"

My heart stopped.

"What did you say?" I blurted, my voice sharper than I intended.

The woman jumped slightly, startled by my sudden outburst. "Uh, they mentioned... an autistic brother? He was on TV—"

"What’s his name?" I demanded, leaning forward as much as I could without letting go of Dominic’s hand.

The woman glanced back at me, her brows furrowing. "I don’t remember," she admitted, her voice apologetic. "It was just a snippet on the news. I wasn’t paying attention to the name..."

I gritted my teeth, my pulse racing. "What was he saying? Do you remember what he said?"

"I—I’m not sure," the woman stammered, her grip on the steering wheel tightening again. "It was something about... family, I think? Or... or..." She trailed off, clearly struggling to recall the details.

I let out a frustrated breath, my mind racing. "Try harder!"

"Eleanor," Dominic rasped weakly, his hand squeezing mine again.

I glanced down at him, his pale face tilted slightly toward me. His expression was a mix of pain and exhaustion, but his eyes held that same unshakable steadiness.

The woman bit her lip, her brow furrowed as she struggled to remember. "I’m sorry," she said, her voice trembling. "It’s all a blur. I didn’t think it was important at the time..."

Dominic shifted slightly, wincing as the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through him. "Let it go," he whispered, his voice so faint I barely heard him.

But I couldn’t let it go. Not yet.

The woman’s knuckles whitened as she clutched the steering wheel, her shoulders tense and trembling. Her lips moved slightly as though she were trying to conjure up something—anything—that would satisfy my demand. But her silence only fueled my frustration.

"Think harder," I urged, leaning forward, my voice sharp and relentless. "What did he say? Anything! Even a word or a gesture—just tell me what you remember."

"Eleanor," Dominic rasped weakly from beside me, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand tightened slightly around mine, but I ignored it, keeping my gaze fixed on the woman.

"I—I’m trying!" the woman stammered, her voice cracking as she cast another frantic glance at me through the rearview mirror. "I already told you, it was just a snippet! I didn’t catch all of it!"

"You must’ve caught something!" I snapped, my tone rising despite myself. "He’s my—" I stopped myself short, inhaling sharply.

The woman visibly flinched, her breathing growing shallower as she looked ahead at the road. "Please," she murmured. "I’m trying, I swear. But I’m not good with details under pressure..."

I clenched my fists, trying to steady my breath. The tension in the car was palpable, suffocating, but I couldn’t let it go. Not now. Not when she might know something—anything—that could lead us to answers.

"Think about the context," I pressed, leaning closer. "What was the tone? Was he pleading? Accusing? Angry?"

The woman hesitated, her eyes darting nervously to Dominic, then back to the road. Her breath hitched audibly, and her hands gripped the wheel even tighter. "I don’t know," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was so fast. He was... talking about someone. Family, I think. Or maybe it was..."

Her voice trailed off again, and my patience snapped.

"Focus!" I hissed, my voice sharp enough to cut through the noise of the outside world.

"Eleanor, enough," Dominic murmured, his voice hoarse but firm. His hand tugged weakly at mine, trying to ground me.

But I couldn’t stop. Not when we were so close. My heart pounded in my chest, every beat echoing like a drum in my ears.

"I am focused!" the woman suddenly exclaimed, her voice high-pitched and shaky. Her face glistened with sweat, and her breaths came faster, shallower. "But you’re scaring me! You’re both scaring me!"

Before I could reply, a cacophony of honking horns and screeching tires filled the air, jolting us all.

The woman’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, then to the windshield as the car slowed. Her breaths became even more erratic, her chest heaving as her gaze locked on something ahead.

"What’s wrong?" I asked sharply, my own heart rate spiking as I scanned the road ahead.

For a moment, she didn’t answer. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her wide, panicked eyes darted between the windshield and the rearview mirror.

"What is it?" I pressed, my voice growing more urgent.

She let out a shaky breath, her knuckles whitening further as she gripped the wheel. "It’s... it’s a checkpoint," she whispered finally, her voice trembling.

My stomach dropped.

"A what?" Dominic’s rasp was faint, but the tension in his voice matched mine.

The woman gulped audibly, her head nodding toward the road ahead. "A police checkpoint," she said, her voice quivering. "They’re... they’re pulling cars over."

Panic coursed through me like ice water. I turned to Dominic, my heart pounding harder now. His pale face was unreadable, his lips pressed into a thin line as his eyes flickered open briefly.

The blaring horns, screeching tires, and shouts from outside seemed to grow louder, more chaotic, as we crept forward in the sluggish traffic. The woman’s breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, and her hands trembled on the wheel.

"What do we do?" I whispered, my voice low but urgent.

For a moment, no one answered. The car inched forward, the red and blue lights of the checkpoint flashing ominously in the distance.

"We’re almost there," the woman murmured, as if trying to convince herself as much as us. "Just... just stay calm."

But her voice betrayed her. It trembled with every word, her panic palpable.

Dominic’s grip on my hand tightened, drawing my attention. His eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, I saw a flicker of something—determination, perhaps. Or resignation.

"We can’t stay calm," I muttered, glancing back at the flashing lights ahead. "Not with them right there."

The woman gulped again, her voice barely audible. "If they find you..."

Her words hung heavy in the air, unfinished but clear. The tension in the car was suffocating, every second dragging out like an eternity as we crept closer to the checkpoint.

And then, as the car slowed to a near stop, Dominic’s voice cut through the silence. "Eleanor," he rasped, his tone low and steady.

I turned to him, my chest tightening at the look in his eyes.

"Don’t do anything stupid," he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding as the red and blue lights loomed closer, illuminating the fear etched on the woman’s face.

The car ahead of us rolled forward, stopping at the checkpoint as an officer approached.

And then, all at once, the world seemed to hold its breath.