“Just fine,” Clara lies, blotting her cheeks.
“I’ll give you a few more minutes,” the nurse says kindly and disappears again.
I check the clock. My window is almost up. If I stay much longer, I won’t leave at all. I get up and do the small helpful things I can to convince myself I’m useful: adjust pillows, refill her water cup, and line the remote up with the edge of the tray so she can easily reach it.
I leave the photo album. “For company,” I say with a weak smile.
“Come back,” she says. Not a question.
“When it’s safe,” I reply. Not what she wants to hear but the only promise I can keep right now.
“Text me code words. Something. Anything.”
“I’ll call you from random numbers and you’ll send me to voicemail and I’ll leave puzzles.” We grin, because joking around has always been a part of survival for us.
We hug and hold on, long and hard. I don’t ever want to let her go. I kiss her forehead.
“Love you, sis,” she says. “Even when you’re a pain in the ass.”
“Love you, too. Even when you tell me I’m a pain in the ass.”
I don’t let myself look back when I step through the door because I know if I do, I’ll break.
The elevator is slow as hell so I take the end stairwell. Once on the main floor, ,s to see that snow is coming down steadily now, quieting the world. My boot soles squeak against the tile. I keep my hood up, face down, breath even.
Outside, the side street is a narrow canyon of parked cars and half-plowed edges. The main entrance glows two blocks away like it’s a portal to another world. I aim toward Third, thinking three blocks then an Uber. I pass a smoking area with nobody smoking and a delivery bay with nobody delivering. My world narrows to the crunch of salt under rubber heels and the itchiness of my scarf.
“Keep walking,” a voice says at my right shoulder, low and deep. “Don’t scream.”
Something hard presses into my ribs before I can turn. The metal shock is clean and clear. My heart jumps so high I nearly swallow it.
I do what he says. I keep walking.
He’s close enough that I can smell mint gum and expensive cologne. Another shape detaches from a van and falls into step on my left side. I don’t turn around.
The gun presses in a fraction, reminding me it’s there. The world narrows again to the gun, the sidewalk, the slush, my pulse pounding loud in my ears.
“Wrong street for a walk,” the first one says, friendly but mocking.
We approach a line of parked cars. A back door opens fast. A hand roughly cups the back of my head and forces me inside.
“You aren’t Damien’s,” I hear myself say, small but furious.
“Smart girl,” the second one mutters. “Shut up.”
I think of the baby shining like a tiny candle under my ribs and I put my palm there to force reassurance.
The engine starts. Slush hisses under tires. The hospital slides past the window like safety being pulled away.
My last clear thought before the fear truly blooms is simple and sharp: This is how they get to him. Through me.
CHAPTER 38
DAMIEN
Alex and I clear security and get on the elevator at Mount Sinai without speaking. We stop outside Clara Hewitt’s door. We stand there a second before I turn to him.
“We’re going to find her,” he says.
