76
I crammed the last of the food into my mouth, barely chewing, my throat working overtime to shove it all down. It didn’t even taste like food anymore—just salty, greasy mush that stuck to my tongue. My stomach churned, threatening to throw it all back up, but I couldn’t stop. Three shots. Joe had told me three.
I sat there, my knees pressed into the cold floor, starting the countdown in my head like a fucking time bomb was strapped to my chest.
Ten. My jaw clenched so hard it hurt. What the hell was I supposed to do? Go out there and throw myself to the wolves? To Vaughn? The thought of his face—his smile—made my stomach twist in knots so tight it hurt. But staying here? Rotting in this cell until Vaughn decided to stroll in and carve me up like a goddamn roast? No. No fucking way.
Nine. My fingers quivered as I scraped the last crumbs off the floor, stuffing them into my mouth like it was my last meal—which it might as well have been. I listened, straining to pick up on the voices outside. Joe was talking. Laughing.
Eight. He was telling a fucking joke. Just chatting it up with Tams and Tim, like he wasn’t about to fucking shoot them both in the head. My breath caught in my throat. I swallowed hard, tears stinging my eyes as I pressed my palm to the floor, grounding myself. Goddamn it, why was this happening?
Seven. Tams laughed. That light, carefree laugh of hers that used to float around the precinct, easy and warm. My chest ached. She was fucking clueless. She had no idea she was standing next to her death.
Six. My heart hammered, so loud it drowned out everything else. I bit down on my lip, hard enough to draw blood, trying to focus. Joe was still talking. Still playing his part, his voice calm and steady.
Five. Tams asked about me. Tams. Fucking Tams. Obnoxious, loud, always up in my business like she had nothing better to do. She made it her goddamn hobby to make me feel like shit. Her laugh used to cut through me like nails on a chalkboard. And even though I hated her, for gossiping at every given opportunity, I still didn’t want her to die.
Four. My fingers dug into the concrete. I bit back the urge to scream, to warn her, to beg her to fucking run. My chest felt like it was caving in, my breaths shallow and fast.
The first shot exploded.
I flinched so hard my back hit the wall, the sound ricocheting through the room like a crack of thunder. Everything outside went silent. Even my heartbeat seemed to stop for a second.
Three. Tears streamed down my face, hot and unrelenting, but I didn’t even notice until I tasted the salt on my lips. My chest heaved as I waited, my head spinning.
Tim’s voice rang out, loud and panicked.
The second shot cut him off mid-sentence.
Two. I clenched my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut. My nails scraped against the floor as I tried to steady myself. My entire body was shaking now, a pathetic, useless mess of nerves.
One.
Silence.
I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until my lungs burned, forcing me to suck in air. My whole body felt frozen, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. Joe’s words echoed in my mind. Run after the third shot.
My gaze darted to the door. My chance to save my brother was out there. But Vaughn was out there too.
I swallowed hard. No more waiting.
One.
The silence that followed the third shot didn’t feel like relief—it felt like the calm before something worse. My whole body was coiled tight, every nerve fraying as the seconds stretched like an elastic band about to snap.
Then the third shot shattered the air.
It was deafening, louder than I’d anticipated, like the barrel had been pressed right against my skull. The metallic echo bounced off the concrete walls, ricocheting inside my head until my ears were ringing. My back hit the cold, damp wall, and I bit down on a scream.
Move, Eleanor. Move.
My legs felt like they were made of lead, but somehow, they carried me forward. The air in the cell was heavy, thick with the stench of sweat, old metal, and damp concrete. It clung to my skin, suffocating. The faint coppery tang of blood still lingered from a scuffle that happened hours ago.
I reached the cell door, the key slick in my trembling hand. My palms were sweaty, and my fingers fumbled as I tried to slot it into the lock. My stomach churned, the food I’d wolfed down earlier threatening to claw its way back up.
Focus, damn it. Focus!
The lock resisted for a moment, the cold metal biting into my fingertips as I twisted it too hard. The mechanism clicked open, but before I could even push the door, a fourth shot rang out.
I froze. My breath hitched, catching in my throat like a sharp splinter.
Four?
Joe had said three.
Why the fuck is there a fourth?
My heart hammered so violently it felt like it would burst out of my chest. The air seemed heavier, pressing down on me. The smell of rust and mildew turned acrid in my nostrils, making me want to gag.
A fifth shot.
I stumbled back from the door, the sound rattling in my head like a scream I couldn’t escape. My hands flew to my ears, pressing hard, trying to drown out the noise. It didn’t help.
The sixth. Seventh. Eighth.
The shots came rapid now, each one a violent jolt that seemed to shake the very foundation of the building. My ears roared, the high-pitched ringing unbearable. Tears spilled down my face, hot and unrelenting, mixing with the salt of sweat on my lips. I barely felt them.
“Stop!” I whispered, my voice breaking into a choked sob. “Please, stop.”
I crouched, my back against the wall, my knees drawn to my chest as I pressed my palms harder against my ears. My breaths came in sharp, shallow bursts, each one tasting of the stale, metallic air of the cell.
Then, it stopped.
The silence was absolute, except for the ringing in my ears and the wild pounding of my heart. For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning.
But then came the thud.
A single, heavy step.
My head jerked up, and my body went rigid.
Another thud followed. The sound was slow, deliberate, echoing down the corridor like a hammer striking stone.
The air felt colder now, sharper. The faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead buzzed against the silence, their pale glow casting jagged shadows on the chipped concrete walls. The cell smelled damp and sour, the faint trace of ammonia stinging my nose.
I couldn’t see who it was. The corridor leading from the cells curved sharply around a corner to the main lobby. Beyond that turn was the front desk and the exit—freedom—but from here, it was nothing but blank concrete and the faint outlines of fluorescent shadows stretching long.
I strained to listen, but my ears were still ringing, and my heart thudded so loudly it drowned out everything else. My nails scraped against the cold, gritty floor as I tried to steady myself.
The footsteps grew louder.
Thud.
Thud.
I pressed my back harder against the wall, my breath hitching with every step. My throat felt tight, and I swallowed hard, the motion painful.
The footsteps stopped.
Right around the corner.
I held my breath, the silence so thick it felt like it had weight. My chest heaved, but no air seemed to fill my lungs.
Whoever it was, they were standing there, just out of sight. My stomach twisted painfully, bile rising as I tried to piece together what the fuck was going on.
Joe? Vaughn? Or someone else?
The thought of Vaughn made my skin crawl. My heart hammered even harder, threatening to give me away.
A faint metallic clink echoed down the corridor, like the sound of a gun being cocked.
My nails dug into my palms so hard it hurt. Every part of me was screaming to move, but I was paralyzed, rooted to the spot by fear. The faint scent of burnt gunpowder lingered now, sharp and acrid, mingling with the sourness of my own sweat.
The silence stretched on, and I swore I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Whoever was out there wasn’t moving, but they were waiting. Waiting for me to make a move.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
