Mave says something to the guards, then finally leaves, and I watch as one of the poncho-wearing freaks glances at his watch, before making a ‘shut it’ gesture to the others.
Shit.
I check the time on my phone.
11:57p.m.
I look up again, and this time, I see a tall shadow in the trees just beyond the estate.
The guards are too busy working on the security panel to notice it – noticehim– but not me. I track his every move.
I’m too stunned not to.
Jesus fuckingChrist. What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Dorran?
6.
Ihear five consecutive beeps – a signal that the gates have been bolted. The guards turn their backs to it and start chatting amongst each other, and the shadow shifts again.
My mouth is dry as I stare at Dorran when he steps into the nightlight.
He’s wearing a black vest and dark jeans, which camouflage him with ease and make it difficult to keep up with him.
He moves again, and it’s with such deadly grace that I’m left speechless.
He’s out of my line of view for a few aching seconds, but when I see him again, he’s climbing up the concrete wall on the left side of the gates.
Ohmygod.
The rain has slowed down, which is going to serve as a disadvantage for whatever it is that he has planned.
At this point, I can only watch what he’s doing, and pray that he succeeds, because if he’s caught, then I’ll have no way of justifying whatever this is, to Mave or to my mom, even if I try my hardest.
Dorran leaps, then lands effortlessly on the wet grass. The guards don’t notice him, not even as he all but glides forward on sure, calculated treads.
The wind picks up again, ruffling his curls, but he continues to press forward – completely unaffected.
He takes cover behind the third figurine, just as one of the guards quickly sweeps his eyes over the garden, before looking away. They won’t be able to see him once he reaches me. But the question is: howwillhe get to me?
If I open the estate doors right now, there’s a strong chance that’ll trigger the guards’ attention, and I most definitely don’t want that. I may not know Dorran well, but I sure as hell don’t want the fucker dead for a few dollars.
He moves again – this time in front of the seventh figurine. That’s a huge leap forward, but he manages to stay undetected, so I’m not complaining.
He shifts to his left first, then to his right, and keeps subtracting the space between us by moving under the cover of the scattered figurines.
Dorran is night incarnate – soundless, incalculable. Fucking fatal by nature.
Athudsounds from somewhere, and both Dorran and I look in its direction. One of the guards has dropped his backup pistol, and the rest of them are laughing at him. Why? I honestly do not know.
These men get paid to ensure Mom and I’s safety, and here they are, cackling because one of them dropped a fucking weapon.
I’ve never felt more protected in my life.
I avert my gaze from them and look at Dorran again, and see that he’s using the guards’ distraction as an opportunity to rush forward. He crosses the garden and reaches the estate’s ground, then finally gazes up at me. He grins, and Christ, it’s so damn full of lunacy that it makes my pulse quicken.
He glances around. Then, in a movement too swift, he jumps and grabs the lowest concrete motif that’s protruding from the right pillar of the estate’s structure.
The guards are having a conversation now, but the words are unclear to me.
