77

I stayed perfectly still, my forehead pressed against the cold, rusty bars of the gate. The metal smelled faintly of sweat and decay, a reminder of every desperate soul who had clung to it before me. And from beyond, I smelt coffee, I smelt rotten food. I smelt blood. Metallic. Disgusting. Causing my stomach to churn, the food I had wolfed down earlier fighting to rise back up my throat. Joe was dead. I couldn’t hear a sound from him, or anyone for that matter. But the gunshots that I had heard, that had left my ears ringing, echoing, long after they had even stopped and the silence from him only seemed to tell he had been shot dead.

My breath hitched, shallow and uneven, my chest aching from holding it in so long. I strained to listen, my ears practically twitching for a sound—any sound—that would give me a clue about what was coming next.

My fingers curled tighter around the bars, the knuckles white and stiff. I didn’t dare move them, barely dared to breathe. My body felt like it was shutting down, every nerve focused on surviving the next second, and the one after that.

If that was Vaughn, or one of his men, just behind that wall, I was as good as dead.

My legs shook, weak and unsteady like they couldn’t hold me up much longer. Every muscle in my body felt like it was giving out, burning from exhaustion and fear. My knees threatened to buckle beneath me, but I locked them, refusing to collapse. Not yet. Not here.

My fingers were numb, the metal biting into my skin. I could barely feel them, but I didn’t let go. The idea of falling to the floor, of crumpling into a heap of bones and useless flesh, terrified me. I didn’t want to be found like that—weak, pathetic, waiting to die.

I couldn’t tell if the silence outside was better or worse. The quiet was suffocating, like a thick, invisible blanket pressed over my ears. It made my mind spin, filling the void with every horrible possibility.

Run, Eleanor.

The thought screamed through my head, insistent and demanding, but I couldn’t make myself move. My feet were rooted to the ground, as if the grimy tiles beneath them had reached up and held me in place.

Open the gate, run like your life depends on it. 

Because it does.

I closed my eyes, biting down hard on my lower lip until I tasted blood. The sharp sting was grounding, snapping me out of my spiral for a second. Just long enough to remind me of the only two options I had.

Option one: stay here. Stay frozen, waiting for death to find me. Let Vaughn’s men—or worse, Vaughn himself—come through that door and end me without a fight. Rot in this fucking cage like a coward.

Option two: fight. Find a way out, even if it killed me. Because at least if I died trying, I’d have done something. At least I wouldn’t have gone down waiting for someone else to decide my fate.

The second option burned through my chest like fire, spreading to my limbs, making my fingers twitch against the bars.

I opened my eyes again, staring into the empty space beyond the gate. My heart pounded so hard it echoed in my ears, drowning out everything else.

Move, Eleanor.

I pushed myself off the gate, my body swaying like I might collapse. But I didn’t. I tightened my grip on the key, forcing my trembling hands to cooperate. My fingers fumbled as I fit it into the lock, the metal scraping against metal with a faint, grating noise.

Just as I turned it, a voice rang out behind the wall, loud and familiar. “Fuck me, this place reeks. Smells worse than a goddamn shithole.”

My hands froze on the lock, the key halfway turned. The voice was rough, familiar, one I hadn’t heard in what felt like forever even though it’s only been a couple of days and recognized immediately. My heart jumped into my throat, thundering against my ribcage.

Adeline.

Boots slapped against the tiles, the sound heavy and deliberate, echoing through the narrow halls. My heart hammered harder, my breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. She was here. Why?

I hadn’t even managed to swing the gate open when I heard it, the unmistakable click of a gun cocking. The sound made my blood run cold, my entire body locking up.

Was she here to save me? Or was she here to put a bullet in my skull?

I stepped back instinctively, my hands trembling so badly I almost dropped the key. My legs wobbled like they might give out at any second, but I planted my feet, forcing myself to stay upright.

The boots grew louder, closer, until she rounded the corner.

Adeline stepped into view, and the sight of her sent a jolt of something—fear, relief, confusion, maybe all three—straight through me.

Her dark brown hair was cropped short, uneven like she’d hacked at it herself without a mirror or a single care. A couple of days ago, they’d been waist length. She was dressed in a way that made her look both effortlessly cool and completely unhinged. In a snug leather jacket, worn jeans, and scuffed boots that looked like they’d kicked in a dozen doors today alone. The shirt underneath clung to her frame, black and simple, but there was something about her whole look that screamed, I dare you to fuck with me.

And in her hand, casual as anything, was the gun. Like the first time I had met her with Dominic, with her shooting at him like a damn animal. 

Her face was blank, not a flicker of emotion in her sharp features. Her eyes, dark and unreadable, locked onto me like I was her target. I couldn’t breathe. My heart felt like it was trying to beat its way out of my chest, each thud so loud I was sure she could hear it.

Ten. Her gaze didn’t waver.

Nine. She lifted the gun. Her finger brushed the trigger, steady, unshaking.

Eight. I couldn’t tell if she was going to pull it or just keep me guessing.

Seven. My legs were jelly, but I didn’t dare move.

Six. My lungs burned as I held my breath, terrified even that small sound might set her off.

Five. I thought about Dominic, about how little I really knew about the woman in front of me.

Four. She was his ex and now he was dead. Her father had also been killed by Vaughn’s men. Surely I had expected her to plan an attack sooner or later, but now, not knowing if she had anything against me, I feared for myself, feared because Adeline didn’t seem like the kind of person to drill a gun into someone. Me. I didn’t know if I was on a good side.

Three. My stomach churned, a sickening mix of fear and guilt clawing its way up my throat.

Two. Her head tilted, slowly, and for a second, I was sure she was about to pull the trigger.

One. My eyes snapped shut, bracing for the impact, for the pain, for whatever the hell was coming next.

“Eleanor,” she drawled, her voice bored and sharp enough to cut glass.

My eyes flew open.

Adeline rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, “Fuck’s sake, you look like you’re about to piss yourself.”

The gun lowered slightly, but her grip didn’t loosen. Her face was still unreadable, but there was something new in her tone now,  bitter edge, an impatience like she couldn’t believe I was wasting her time.

“Relax,” she snapped. “If I wanted you dead, you’d already be bleeding out on this filthy-ass floor.”

My knees nearly gave out, relief flooding my chest like a shot of oxygen, but it lasted for only a heartbeat. Her voice cut through again, sharper this time.

“Who killed Bunny?”

Her father. My throat tightened, my breath hitching as her dark, piercing eyes bore into me. There was no softness there, no room for hesitation or lies.

“Vaughn,” I said quickly, my voice hoarse and shaky.

Her expression didn’t change—not anger, not grief, not even a flicker of surprise. Instead, her brows twitched, a slight tug upward, just enough to tell me she wasn’t expecting that name but had heard it before.

“Vaughn,” she echoed, the word curling off her tongue like poison. “That the same bastard Dominic kept bitching about?”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah, him.”

She cocked her head, the barrel of her gun still angled loosely at the ground but ready, as if she could lift it and fire in a second flat. “Who the fuck is he, Eleanor? Spill.”

I took a breath, or tried to. My chest was tight, the air in this godforsaken station thick and stale, reeking of piss, sweat, and death.

“Vaughn’s… he’s not just some mafia boss,” I started, forcing the words out even as my stomach churned. “He’s worse. He’s a goddamn monster. The kind that doesn’t just deal drugs or guns. He traffics people, sells them like livestock. Women, kids—he doesn’t give a shit. And when he’s done with them, when they’re no good to him anymore, he…”

I faltered, bile rising in my throat. Adeline didn’t blink, didn’t flinch, just stared me down with that same unyielding glare.

“He sells their body parts,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. “For… for human consumption.”

Her brows lifted just a fraction higher, but that was the only crack in her armor. Her face remained cold, impassive, like she’d heard it all before and was beyond being shocked. Still, I noticed the way her jaw clenched, the subtle flex of her fingers around the gun.

“Fucking hell,” she muttered, her tone low and tight. For a second, just a second, I thought I saw something flicker in her eyes—disgust, maybe. But it was gone as fast as it appeared.

“Right,” she said finally, her voice sharp again. “Time we took that piece of shit lower than the fucking gutter he crawled out of.”

She turned slightly, her gaze raking over me from head to toe. “You look like hell,” she said bluntly. “And we don’t have time to fix that. We need to move before someone realizes I just shot up this shitty station.”

I didn’t respond, couldn’t, because my head was spinning too fast. I wanted to ask her how she even got here, what the hell her plan was, but the words wouldn’t come out.

Adeline started to turn toward the hall, her boots scraping against the grimy floor, then hesitated.

“Oh,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder. Her voice softened just a hair, losing its sharp edge but not its weight. “Dominic.”

The name hit me like a punch to the gut, and she must’ve seen it on my face because her mouth twisted into something that might’ve been sympathy or pity.

“I heard the fucker’s dead,” she said flatly. “I’m… sorry.”

Then, without waiting for a response, she straightened, gripping the gun like it was an extension of her arm. “Let’s go,” she barked.

And just like that, she was moving, leaving me to stumble after her, my legs barely holding me upright as my mind reeled.

Dominic was dead. Vaughn was out there. And Adeline… Adeline was about to drag me into hell to finish the battle of thirteen years.