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He must have seen the panic in my eyes because he didn’t argue. We started moving again, faster this time, my heartbeat a brutal drum against my ribcage. Every breath felt tight, too shallow, as if my lungs couldn’t expand properly. The air was thick with the sharp scent of city life—hot pavement, exhaust fumes, the faintest trace of roasted nuts from a food cart a few feet away. I darted glances left and right, my mind running a mile a minute, searching for openings, for places to disappear into.
I yanked the cap lower over my face, my fingers gripping the fabric so hard my knuckles ached. I needed to blend in. We needed to blend in. But how the hell were we supposed to do that with a panicked ten-year-old between us and the weight of a hundred mistakes pressing down on my shoulders?
We slipped past an old man selling pretzels, the smell of salt and burnt dough thick in the air. He barely glanced up from his cart, but his hunched shoulders and weathered face burned themselves into my mind for no reason other than the way his fingers trembled slightly as he adjusted the napkins beside the register. I wondered, absurdly, if he had always worked this cart, if he had been standing on this same damn street corner for years, watching people like me running from something they couldn't outrun, pass by like ghosts.
A group of teenagers sat on a nearby bench, their laughter too loud, too careless. One of them flicked cigarette ash onto the pavement, his gaze sweeping over us in vague disinterest before turning back to whatever stupid joke his friend had told. For a second, I envied them. The way they could just sit there, lost in their own little world, unaware of how dangerous the city could be. How cruel. How it swallowed people whole and spit them out in pieces.
A woman with a stroller nearly walked into me, and I barely managed to swerve in time. She shot me a scowl, her eyes flicking up from the phone she had been glued to, her mouth already curling into a sneer like she was ready to tell me off. She was in her mid-thirties, dressed in expensive athleisure, her dark hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. The baby in the stroller was asleep, its tiny hands curled into fists, its face round and peaceful.
For a split second, something sharp twisted in my chest.
I didn’t have time for that.
I muttered a quick, breathless apology and kept moving, tugging Adam closer, my fingers tightening around his wrist. He let out a small, distressed noise, and I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t risk him slipping away, couldn’t risk losing him in the crowd.
Dominic was half a step behind me, his presence a constant, burning weight at my back. I could hear his breathing, steady but strained, could feel the way his gaze darted around as frantically as mine, searching for threats, for shadows that didn’t belong.
We needed to disappear.
We ducked into a narrow side street, just for a moment, just long enough for me to catch my breath and readjust my grip on the cap, yanking it even lower. My pulse was a hammer in my throat. Adam was shaking, his small chest rising and falling too fast. He wasn’t crying, but he was close. Too close. His terrified eyes flicked up at me, silently begging for answers I didn’t have time to give.
I ran a hand down my face, swallowed hard. Get it together, Eleanor.
We were trapped but I didn't care about any of it. All I cared about was getting to the Ferrari.
The cops kept weaving through the crowd, trying to act natural, but they were moving in our direction.
Alaric’s men were too.
And we were running out of space.
We stepped out of the narrow street, and I swore I could feel the air tighten around us. My breath was shallow, my fingers trembling as I adjusted my grip on Adam’s wrist, making sure not to squeeze too hard. But it was hard. It was so fucking hard not to let my fear consume me. My mind raced ahead, wild thoughts slamming into each other with a force that made my skull ache. What had happened to Tina? Had she been caught? Beaten? Left to bleed out in some alley while we ran for our lives? Had Clarissa taken her? Dragged her to that hellhole I had escaped? I wanted to believe that Tina was strong enough to get out of it, that she was smarter, faster, but a deep, gnawing dread coiled in my gut. I’d seen too much shit in my life to hold on to hope blindly.
The street was alive with movement, a chaotic blur of people completely oblivious to the fact that a manhunt was unfolding right in front of them. We picked up our pace, weaving through bodies, my cap pulled so low over my face that I could barely see past the brim. Dominic was close beside me, his presence solid, unwavering. The tension between us was still there, crackling like static electricity, but there was no time for it now. We had bigger problems. The crowd was thick, pressing in on all sides. A street performer banged on an overturned bucket, the dull thud of his drumsticks reverberating through my chest like a second heartbeat.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang-bang-bang-bang.
And then—fuck. A cop. Too close.
My pulse skyrocketed as my eyes locked onto the uniformed officer cutting through the crowd, his head on a swivel, scanning faces. My body reacted before my brain could process it, my arm shooting out to grab Dominic’s sleeve, yanking him back just as he was about to walk straight into the officer’s line of sight.
“What….?” he started, but I shot him a sharp glare and nodded toward the cop.
He went rigid, his body tensing like a coiled spring. We needed to blend. Now.
Then, in the most reckless, shameless move I’d ever seen, Dominic lunged forward and ripped a baseball cap off the head of a teenage kid zipping past on a bike.
“What the….? Hey!” the kid yelped, his handlebars jerking wildly as he lost balance. The bike wobbled beneath him, his sneakers skidding against the pavement as he barely managed to keep from eating asphalt. His arms flailed, a strangled noise of outrage escaping him.
That second; one, two, was all it took. The cop’s head snapped toward the commotion, his gaze locking onto the kid just as he stumbled to a halt, swearing under his breath.
Dominic didn’t hesitate. He yanked the stolen cap down low over his face, shadows swallowing the sharp angles of his jaw. In an instant, he was just another man in the crowd, one of a hundred faceless nobodies.
The cop’s eyes flicked away just as fast, scanning past us, dismissing the incident as nothing more than a kid being reckless in traffic.
I exhaled sharply, my pulse hammering as I grabbed Dominic’s arm and dragged him forward.
“What the actual fuck was that?” I hissed between clenched teeth.
“Improvising,” he muttered, voice infuriatingly casual.
I wanted to punch him.
Jesus, I wanted to.
Instead, we kept moving, slipping past a group of tourists chattering in rapid French, their cameras swinging around their necks. My eyes flickered over the street signs, my brain working overtime to map out the quickest route to Tina’s Ferrari. And then, I saw it.
There, parked in front of a shopping mall, sleek and dark. The Ferrari F8 Tributo. The fucking masterpiece of a car. And in that moment, the sight of it nearly made my knees give out.
Dominic stiffened beside me, his eyes widening.
“No fucking way,” he muttered, his voice laced with disbelief.
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