131
We burst out the door, the heavy metal slamming shut behind us with a loud clang. The air outside was thick, humid, a stark contrast to the cold that had lingered in the morning. The alley behind the school was narrow, lined with dumpsters overflowing with trash, the sour stench of rotting food and something else, something pungent which had hit me instantly. The asphalt was cracked, littered with cigarette butts and old, discarded flyers that stuck to the ground in damp patches. A chain-link fence loomed ahead, its metal rusted in places, separating the alley from the main street. Beyond it, the city buzzed: cars honking, people walking briskly, oblivious to the chaos unfolding just behind them.
Dominic was struggling. I could smell the sweat on him now, mixed with that distinct metallic tang of blood seeping through whatever bandage he had wrapped around himself. He still clutched Adam like his entire life depended on it, his arms locked around the boy’s small frame despite the visible quiver in his muscles. I slowed my steps, subtly matching his pace, not wanting to leave him behind. His breathing had turned shallow, and each step seemed heavier than the last, his shoes dragging slightly against the pavement.
I kept my cap low, tugging at the brim, paranoid that someone, anyone, would recognize me. According to Tina, my face was everywhere. Online debates, conspiracy theories, news anchors spinning whatever bullshit version of my story they were feeding the public. Every second that passed in the open felt like an invitation for disaster. I stole glances over my shoulder, searching for Tina, hoping, praying she had made it out alive.
Then Dominic spoke, his voice rough and breathless. “Who the fuck was that?”
I turned my head to him, my jaw tightening. Sweat had turned his skin flushed, his usually sharp eyes dulled with exhaustion. The heat wasn’t helping, the sun bearing down on us mercilessly now, making everything feel even more suffocating.
Almost reluctantly, I muttered, “She’s someone who saved my ass while you were off in bumfuck nowhere.”
The bitterness in my voice was unmistakable, and he caught it instantly. His gaze snapped to me, something flickering in his expression: annoyance, maybe guilt. His chest heaved, his breathing uneven as he adjusted Adam in his arms.
“Eleanor, I was shot,” he reminded me, his voice edged with frustration. “I almost fucking died.”
I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I looked ahead, focusing on the cracked sidewalk, on the people moving past us, completely unaware that we were running for our goddamn lives. A woman with a stroller passed by, her toddler chewing on a stuffed toy, babbling. A businessman in a navy suit walked in the opposite direction, not sparing us a glance. An old man sat on the curb, lighting a cigarette with shaking fingers, his wrinkled face hardened with years of something I didn’t care to figure out.
I swallowed hard. Rationally, I knew he had almost died. Rationally, I knew he hadn’t abandoned me on purpose. But the anger sat in my chest, coiled tight, and I didn’t know if I was mad at him or just mad at everything.
We reached the corner, and Dominic peeked around it. The moment he did, he immediately retracted, his face tightening. He exhaled sharply, then finally, finally, set Adam down, his grip lingering on the boy’s arm for just a second before he straightened with a grimace.
“Cops.” His voice was low but urgent.
My heart slammed against my ribs. I tugged at my cap again, fingers gripping the brim so tightly my knuckles turned white. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Nothing ever fucking went right.
I was supposed to stay mad at him. But at what, exactly? While I had been locked in that hellhole, he had been fighting to stay alive. And at least he was here now, present for once, when I needed him the most. For me. For Adam.
I clenched my fists, my pulse hammering. Dominic kept peeking around the corner while I held onto Adam now, my arms tightening around his small body. He pressed his head against my chest, his little frame trembling, and an overwhelming sadness crashed into me, so deep and gut-wrenching it made my breath hitch.
I had given him up. From the second he was born, I had let go of him. And now he was here, clinging to me, his tiny fingers digging into my shirt, crying about wanting his mom when I was right here.
I am your mother.
The thought screamed in my head, nearly paralyzing me, but I swallowed it down. He smelled like baby shampoo and whatever detergent his parents used on his clothes, mixed with a faint sugary scent from whatever snack he must have had earlier. I couldn’t let it get to me. Not now.
Dominic turned back, his eyes landing on us. For a second, something flickered in his expression, almost raw. But then, just as fast, he shut it down, signaling for me to follow. I tugged Adam along, my fingers shaking slightly as I gripped his wrist. He stumbled at first, his sobs soft but still too damn loud, and I had to murmur, “Shh, baby, please,” even though I knew it wouldn’t help.
The cops were still loitering. I forced my breathing to slow, pushing my cap lower over my face as we blended into the crowd moving through the city streets. Dragging a crying child around would only draw more attention, and my heart pounded at the thought of how long before his adoptive parents realized he was missing. How long before they called the cops and said their son had been kidnapped from school? How long before that alert went out and spread like wildfire?
We crossed the intersection at Columbus Circle, slipping past street performers and tourists taking photos near the USS Maine Monument. The scent of roasted peanuts and hot dogs from food carts mixed with the stench of hot asphalt, sweat, and the occasional waft of weed from a group of teenagers sitting on the steps near the Merchants’ Gate entrance. The air was thick with city noise—horns blaring, conversations overlapping, the distant hum of a saxophone player.
I kept looking over my shoulder, searching the crowd, praying I’d see Tina emerge, but she was nowhere in sight.
Dominic pulled me toward Central Park, the shifting terrain beneath my shoes going from concrete to packed dirt as we made our way down a winding path, ducking behind clusters of tourists and runners. My body was wired with nerves, my skin burning from how hot it had gotten despite the morning chill earlier. Dominic was still flushed, sweat sticking his shirt to his back, and that scent of blood, of bandaged wounds, lingered between us. He was barely holding himself together, but his grip on Adam hadn’t loosened once, like the kid was the only thing keeping him moving.
Then, just as we neared Bethesda Terrace, my gaze locked onto something that made my stomach turn to ice.
Alaric.
He stood near the fountain, dressed in his usual fitted suit, a cigarette between his fingers as he spoke to one of the cops.
A fucking cop.
My teeth ground together so hard my jaw ached. My fingers dug into Dominic’s sleeve, and when he followed my gaze, his brows pulled together. He looked more confused than angry, and I couldn’t hold it in.
“The fucker is with Vorgath,” I whispered, my voice shaking with fury.
Dominic’s lips parted slightly, then he shook his head, his eyes darting back to my uncle. “That’s not right.”
“What’s not right?” I snapped, my heart pounding so hard I thought I’d throw up.
Dominic hesitated. Too much. Too long. And when he finally looked at me, it was with something I didn’t fucking like.
“I’m sorry.”
My breath caught. The world tilted for a second. I didn’t know why, but I felt it—the shift, the wrongness, the dread curling up my spine.
We slipped into a shaded alcove near the Loeb Boathouse, the green of the park folding around us like a shield, but it wasn’t enough. I felt exposed. I felt fucking played.
Dominic ran a hand through his damp hair, his forehead creased, his breath still heavy. He wouldn’t look at me at first. Then, finally, he did.
“Alaric was the one who helped me,” he admitted. “He was the backup plan.”
For a second, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The words didn’t register at first because they didn’t make any sense.
And then, when they did, anger ripped through me like wildfire.
“What?” I hissed, stepping toward him, my fists curling at my sides. “You’re telling me that piece of shit was your fucking plan B?”
Dominic exhaled sharply, his jaw clenching. “I didn’t know—”
“You didn’t know?” My voice was a whisper, but it dripped with rage. My vision blurred at the edges. My ears rang. My entire body trembled, and I didn’t know if it was fear or fury or a lethal combination of both. “You trusted him?”
His silence told me everything.
I sucked in a sharp breath, my heart hammering as I forced myself to think. To focus. We had to get the fuck out of here, and I couldn’t afford to lose my shit now.
But god, it was taking everything in me not to scream.
Not to lose my fucking mind.
Now sticking with Tina back there seemed like a much better option.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
