Where to go? Home’s out—that’s the first place they’ll look. Dickshit, is this just my fucking luck?
I run, my feet pounding the pavement as I weave through back alleys and side streets. My lungs are burning, and I can taste blood in the back of my throat, but I don’t stop.
After what feels like hours but is probably only minutes, I duck into the doorway of a closed pawn shop, trying to catch my breath. My hands are shaking as I pat my pockets, looking for my phone.
It’s not there.Fuck. I must have left it in my locker.
I lean against the grimy glass of the shop window, my mind racing. What the hell do I do now? I’ve got no phone, no money, and a bunch of Russian psychos after me.
And the worst part? I’ve got no idea why.
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.
Think, Wren. Think.
A car engine rumbles nearby, and I tense. Is it them? Have they found me already?
I peer around the edge of the doorway, my heart in my throat. A black SUV crawls down the street, its tinted windows gleaming in the streetlights.
I press myself back into the shadows, holding my breath. The SUV passes slowly like it’s searching for something. Or someone.
As it disappears around the corner, I let out a shaky breath. That was too close.
I need a plan. I need help. But who can I trust?
The neon sign of a 24-hour diner flickers across the street. My stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten since… I can’t even remember.
Food. A phone. A chance to think. It’s not much of a plan, but it’s all I’ve got right now.
I take one last look around, then dart across the street. As I push open the diner door, the bell jingling overhead, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m walking into something I can’t walk away from.
A handful of night owls are scattered around, nursing cups of coffee and picking at plates of runny eggs. Nobody looks up as I stumble in, which is just fine by me.
“Sit anywhere you like, hon,” a waitress calls out. She’s older, with faded red hair and the kind of tired eyes that have seen it all.
I slide into a booth near the back, my eyes darting between the door and the grimy windows. Every car that passes makes my heart skip a beat.
The waitress shuffles over, notepad in hand. “What can I get you, sweetheart?”
“Just… just water for now,” I manage, my throat dry as sandpaper.
She frowns, taking in my disheveled appearance. “You alright there? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I force a smile that feels more like a grimace. “Long night. I’m fine.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but before she can say anything else, headlights sweep across the windows. The black SUV cruises by again, slow as molasses.
Fuck. They’re still looking.
I duck down, nearly knocking over the sugar dispenser in my panic.
“Hey, now,” the waitress says, her voice low and concerned. “What’s going on? You in some kind of trouble?”
I peek up, watching the SUV disappear around the corner. “It’s… complicated.”
She sighs, setting down her notepad. “Ain’t it always? Look, you need help? I can call someone for you.”
I shake my head. “No, I just… I could really use some food. But I left my wallet at work. I swear I’ll come back tomorrow and pay, I just—”
