One arm wrapped around Jackson, I hold us both suspended as my bare feet scramble, seeking purchase on the jagged rocks of the softly sloping wall.
Biting back a cry of pain as my shoulder protests, I stare down at the predicament we’re in.
Ten feet up, we’re too far off the ground for me to jump and safely break Jackson’s fall.
But the fear that Jackson’s scream might mean he got shot overrules it all.
“Jackson, are you hurt?” I ask, scanning him for a bullet wound as best I can while still holding him with one arm.
“I’m okay,” he says, looking up at me with wide, terrified eyes. “Did he shoot Gio?”
My heart stutters and gives a painful squeeze. “I… I don’t know,” I admit, glancing above us, hoping I’ll catch a glimpse of Gio. I might have driven him from our lives, but that doesn’t mean I love him any less than I have since the day I met him, and the thought that he could be hurt or dead on the other side of the wall makes me want to cry.
But if he did get shot, then Jackson and I might be on our own.
“Bud, I need you to do something for me. Can you hold and try to slide down me, closer to the ground? Think of it like you’re going back down that climbing rope in gym.”
Jackson glances over his shoulder at how high up we are and swallows hard, then nods. I keep my arm loosely curled around him, then transition my grip to his upper arm as a safety measure while he slowly works his way closer to the ground.
When he’s at my knees, his arms wrapped around them so tight that my bones are screaming in protest, he looks up at me anxiously.
I give him an encouraging nod. “Good boy. Now I need you to let go. It’s just a small drop from there.”
I don’t know how my little boy got so brave, but he only hesitates a second before he lets go. Then tumbles as he finds the uneven footing several feet beneath him.
As soon as he’s clear of my landing area, I let go of the wall, my bare soles scraping against the stone the whole way down as I half slide, half fall. I don’t even realize I’ve been holding my breath until my feet hit the ground.
My knees nearly give out, but I don’t stop moving until I have Jackson’s little body clutched to my chest once more. He’s breathing hard, and I can feel the hammering of his heart against my ribs.
“What do we do now?” he asks, eyes lifting to search the top of the wall for Gio.
My heart twinges because—in no uncertain terms—Gio’s last words to us were telling us to go,get out of here.
Something dies inside me at the thought that he might have said it because he’s not going to make it over that wall.
But if we stand here long enough, waiting for him, all his efforts and sacrifice will be in vain if we get caught again.
With a knot blocking the words in my throat, I open my mouth, ready to tell Jackson it’s time to go.
We can’t stay here.
But before I can get that far, a head appears over the top of the wall, followed by a pair of broad, powerful shoulders.
Relief floods me as Gio lands with a heavy thud beside me, and before I can protest, he’s scooping Jackson right out of my arms and tucking him securely against his chest.
“Stay close,” he orders, his voice low but urgent. “We need to keep moving.”
I don’t even think to argue.
His free hand reaches back for me, strong fingers closing around my palm—firm enough that I couldn’t get free even if I wanted to.
And God help me… I don’t want to.
Not right now.
We run.
Branches slap at my arms.
