68

I gripped onto Dominic’s arm and squeezed, more than I intended to because he let out a yelp in pain, and then a nervous chuckle as he entwined his fingers with mine, the tightest we’ve ever held hands. My heart thudded in my chest, banging against my ribcage, terrorising me, as if to escape through my parted lips. My chest heaved. The entire car smelled overwhelming with nervous sweat and blood from Dominic’s gunshot wound and in all honesty, I feared for him, more than I did myself and the cops a few feet from us. 

I gripped Dominic’s arm tighter, my nails digging into his skin as the car inched closer to the police checkpoint. My heart slammed against my ribcage, each beat louder than the last, each breath harder to take. I felt like the air in the car had thickened, heavy with the metallic tang of Dominic’s blood and the sharp, acrid scent of fear that radiated from all of us.

“Careful,” Dominic murmured weakly, his voice hoarse. His fingers reached up to clasp mine, their grip weaker than usual but still firm enough to anchor me. “You’re going to break my arm before the cops do.”

“Sorry,” I whispered, loosening my grip slightly but not letting go.

In the driver’s seat, the woman stared straight ahead, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. Her breathing was shallow, her shoulders trembling as though the weight of the situation was crushing her. She glanced at us through the rearview mirror, her wide, tear-brimmed eyes meeting mine for a split second before darting away.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her words quivered like leaves in a storm. “I... I was just trying to help. I didn’t think... I didn’t think it would come to this.”

Dominic shifted slightly beside me, wincing as the movement jostled his injured side. His voice, though raspy, was calm and deliberate. “Look... If we get through this, great. If not... you need to tell them we forced you to drive us. Say we threatened you, blackmailed you, whatever. Just make sure they know you had no choice.”

The woman shook her head violently, tears spilling down her cheeks. “No, I can’t— I won’t lie like that!”

“You need to,” Dominic pressed, his tone soft but firm. “Protect yourself. You don’t deserve to go down for this.”

“I don’t care!” she snapped, her voice cracking. “I just... I don’t want anyone to get hurt. I was trying to help you!”

“Then help yourself,” Dominic said, his tone almost pleading now. He paused, breathing heavily for a moment before asking, “What’s your name?”

She hesitated, her grip tightening on the wheel. “Sheila,” she whispered finally.

Dominic gave a faint nod, his lips twitching in what might have been the ghost of a smile. “Thank you, Sheila. For everything.”

Her shoulders sagged slightly, as though his words released some of the tension coiled within her. Tears streaked her face, and she swiped at them with trembling fingers.

“I’m just trying to do the right thing,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, my voice firmer than I felt. “You’ve already done more than enough.”

For a moment, the car was silent except for the distant cacophony of honking horns and screeching brakes as the line of vehicles inched forward.

“My ex-husband,” Sheila said suddenly, her voice hesitant. “He’s... he’s a police captain. Louis Mercer. If—if you need someone on the inside, maybe he can help.”

Dominic raised an eyebrow, exchanging a wary glance with me. “That’s generous,” he said slowly, “but the people we’re dealing with... They’re powerful. Even if we made it into custody, they’d find a way to get to us. No one’s safe around us.”

Sheila nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. “My son’s a lawyer,” she added softly. “If you need representation, he’s good. Really good.”

Dominic let out a faint laugh, one that ended in a grimace. “You really are full of surprises, Sheila.”

She smiled faintly, the corners of her lips trembling. “My house is on 1822 Valmont Street,” she said, her voice growing steadier. “Upper East Side. If you need a place to lay low... I mean, I don’t know how much I can really do, but you’re welcome there.”

I blinked, surprised by her generosity. “Why are you helping us?” I asked softly.

She opened her mouth, but before she could respond, her eyes widened in horror.

“It’s our turn,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The car slowed to a crawl, the flashing red and blue lights of the checkpoint casting the interior in a surreal, pulsating glow. My stomach lurched as Sheila rolled down the window, her trembling hand fumbling with the control.

A middle-aged officer with a balding head and a stern expression stepped forward, his flashlight already aimed at her face.

“License and registration,” he barked, his voice rough and commanding.

Sheila nodded quickly, her movements jerky as she reached for her purse. Her fingers fumbled with the zipper, and the purse slipped from her grasp, spilling its contents onto the passenger seat.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, her hands shaking as she grabbed her wallet and pulled out her ID. She handed it over with trembling fingers, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

The officer studied the ID for a moment before shining his flashlight into the backseat.

My heart stopped.

His beam landed on me first, and I froze under his scrutiny, willing myself to appear calm. But then his gaze shifted, and the flashlight illuminated Dominic slumped against the seat, his shirt dark with blood.

The officer’s eyes narrowed. His hand dropped to his radio.

“Step out of the car,” he ordered sharply, his voice rising in volume.

Sheila’s breath hitched. “P-please, officer, I can explain—”

“Step out now!” he barked, his hand hovering near his holstered gun.

Sheila hesitated, her knuckles turning white on the steering wheel.

“Eleanor,” Dominic whispered beside me, his voice so faint I almost missed it.

The officer’s flashlight swept over us again. His free hand twitched toward his radio, and my chest tightened.

The sound of honking horns and screeching brakes seemed to fade into the background as the reality of the situation crashed over me. We were out of time. The officer’s hand shot to his radio, and my heart seized. I grabbed Dominic’s arm, my grip tightening in silent panic. He didn’t flinch this time—his face was pale and glistening with sweat, too drained to even react.

“This is Officer Grayson at Checkpoint Alpha,” the cop barked into the radio, his sharp eyes still locked on us. “I’ve got a Code 5. Suspects match the description from the APB. Requesting immediate backup.”

“No,” Sheila gasped, her voice trembling. “Wait! Please, they’re—”

“Ma’am, stay in the car!” Grayson snapped, cutting her off. His tone brooked no argument. “How do you know them? Are they armed? Are they a threat?”

Sheila’s lips trembled, her face pale. “I—I was just giving them a ride. They needed help—”

“Save it.” Grayson’s attention snapped back to us. He unclipped his gun from his holster, the metallic click sending a jolt of terror through me.

“Hands where I can see them!” he barked. “Both of you! Now!”

I hesitated, my mind racing. If I moved, would he shoot? If I stayed still, would backup arrive and seal our fate?

Dominic coughed weakly, a faint wheeze that sent a shiver of panic through me. His head lolled toward me, his eyes barely open.

“Eleanor,” he rasped, so low it was almost inaudible. “I can barely move."

The words struck me like a blow to the chest. My mind screamed to act, but my body was frozen.

“I said, hands up!” Grayson barked again, louder this time. His flashlight beam blinded me, and I instinctively raised one hand, my other still clutching Dominic’s.

“Both hands!” Grayson barked, his gun now aimed directly at me.

I released Dominic reluctantly, my fingers trembling as I raised both hands. The movement felt like surrender, like betrayal.

Grayson’s voice was sharp and unrelenting. “Out of the car. One at a time.”

Sheila turned toward him, her eyes desperate. “Please, officer, the man he's injured. They’re not—”

“Step. Out. Now!” Grayson barked, silencing her protests.

I glanced at Dominic. He was barely holding on, his breaths shallow and his face ashen. There was no way he could move on his own, let alone get out of the car.

“Move!” Grayson ordered, stepping closer to the car.

“I’ll go first,” I said quickly, trying to buy us time. My voice wavered, but I forced myself to keep it steady. “He’s hurt. He needs—”

“Out!” Grayson interrupted, motioning with his gun.

I slid across the seat, every movement deliberate and slow. My legs felt like jelly as I stepped out of the car, the cool night air hitting me like a slap.

“Turn around!” Grayson ordered. “Hands on the car!”

I obeyed, pressing my palms against the roof of Sheila’s car, my heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the honking horns around us. Grayson moved toward Dominic’s side, his gun still drawn.

“Get out,” he ordered, his tone as cold as steel.

“He’s injured,” I said, my voice trembling but insistent. “He can’t—”

“Shut up!” Grayson snapped, cutting me off.

Dominic groaned weakly, his head lolling back against the seat. His bloodied shirt clung to his chest, and the sight made my stomach twist.

Grayson reached for the door, yanking it open. “Out!” he barked again.

Dominic didn’t move. Couldn’t move. His lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came out.

Grayson growled in frustration, holstering his gun momentarily to grab Dominic by the arm. He hauled him halfway out of the car, eliciting a strangled cry of pain from Dominic.

“Stop!” I shouted, spinning around. “You’re hurting him!”

Grayson whipped his gun back out, aiming it squarely at me. “Don’t test me!” he snapped. “Face the car!”

Sheila, still in the driver’s seat, sobbed openly. “Please, officer, he’s really hurt! Just let me explain—”

“Stay out of this, ma’am,” Grayson barked, dragging Dominic further out of the car. Dominic’s legs hit the pavement with a sickening thud, and I winced at the sound.

Grayson turned back to his radio. “Suspects apprehended,” he said curtly. “One severely injured. Medical backup required. Suspected affiliations to—”

Dominic coughed violently, cutting him off. The sound was wet and ragged, like it was tearing through his chest.

“Stop,” I begged, my voice cracking. “He needs help! You’re killing him!”

Grayson didn’t respond. Instead, he crouched beside Dominic, gripping his collar and yanking him upright. Dominic’s head lolled forward, and for a terrifying moment, I thought he might have passed out.

“Who are you running from?” Grayson demanded, shaking him roughly. “Why are you injured? Answer me!”

Dominic’s eyes fluttered open, and he managed a weak, bloodied grin. “You’re... asking... the wrong guy,” he rasped, his voice barely audible.

Grayson’s expression darkened. He turned to me, his gun still pointed in my direction. “You want to answer for him, sweetheart?”

I glared at him, my heart hammering. “We don’t know anything,” I said, forcing the words out. “We’re just trying to survive.”

Grayson’s jaw clenched, and he tightened his grip on Dominic’s collar. “Not good enough,” he growled.

Before he could say anything else, the screech of tires and the blare of a siren split the air. Backup had arrived. Lights flashed in the distance, their beams cutting through the dark like daggers.

Grayson stood, dragging Dominic up with him. “Looks like your time’s up,” he muttered, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Dominic sagged in his grip, his eyes barely open, and my stomach dropped. We were out of time, and there was no escape.