Star looks up at me, her voice cutting off before she looks back at Capone. When she leans over and kisses his cheek, something inside of me breaks apart.
“Bye-bye, Uncle Capone.”
I don’t try to hide my tears this time—it would be impossible. Instead, I pull my daughter to my chest and sob into her hair at the unfairness of it all.
Once I have myself under control, I swipe my hand over my face before pulling back and looking down at Star. “Your voice is beautiful. I’m so proud of you.” I smooth her hair back and kiss her forehead. “I love you, sweet girl.”
“I love you too, mama,” she whispers, making me cry once more, with the words I never thought I’d hear.
“Okay, I need to find a way to get us out of here.”
She nods, sliding off my lap, her trust in me complete.
I lift her arm and look at the shackle attaching her to Capone. I fight off the flashback the clank makes, remembering how heavy and cold these things can get. Was this a coincidence or a twisted ploy on Michael’s part to get me spiraling? Well, fuck him.
I yank at it, tugging and twisting until my fingers bleed. When that doesn’t work, I use my blood to try and slip the shackle from Star’s wrist. When she cries out in pain, I stop, pressing my lips to her wrist in an apology.
My frayed nerves are fueled by anger as I pick up the knife I’d placed on the floor in front of them and try to use it to prythe shackle free. When I nick Star’s skin, I have to give up. I turn to Capone’s rapidly cooling body and fight back the agony over what I’m about to do.
“Star? Please close your eyes and cover them for me. Keep them covered until I say so. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“No matter what. You keep them closed.”
She nods and closes them, burying her face against her bent knees and wrapping her arms around them.
I turn back to Capone and rest my hand on his wrist just above the shackle. “I’m so sorry, Capone. Please forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. You get her out of here, Citi. You do whatever you have to, and I’ll be here right behind you.”
“You’re not really here.”
He huffs out a laugh.“You think I’d let something as trivial as death stop me? Woman, please.”His face sobers as he looks around.“We need to work fast, though. I don’t know how long we have until he comes back.”
“I don’t know if I can do this.” I hold the knife and watch as it shakes in my grip.
“If you don’t, Star dies. And then I died for nothing.”
I let my eyes slip closed as his words hit me and feel myself shut off my emotions. It’s the only way I can do this.
I cast my eyes to Star. “Sing for me, baby. Sing for mama.”
I wait a beat until Star’s soft, haunting voice starts singing the first line ofHush Little Babybefore I tighten my grip around Capone’s arm, place my knife to his wrist, and start cutting.
I don’t know how much time passes. I have to stop more than once to throw up. But eventually, with my arms shaking from the exertion, Capone’s hand pulls free from his wrist. It takes a second for me to slip it from the shackle. I tug Star away from the carnage, her voice now hoarse from singing. I place her onthe ground near where I first woke up, knowing the shadows will hide what I did to her savior.
I contemplate our next move when I hear a noise—the sound a boot makes when it slips a little on rocky dirt.
“Keep those eyes closed, baby,” I whisper to Star as I run back to where I dropped the knife. I don’t try to be quiet. I slide across the floor, ignoring the pain, and grab the knife before getting to my feet and holding it behind my back.
I hold my breath as the oppressive silence threatens to choke me. And then I see him, a shadow within the shadows, stepping into the light, gun in one hand, handcuffs in the other.
I blink as his face comes into view and feel a simmering rage start to boil inside me. Pig. That motherfucker.
“Surprise,” he taunts as I take him in. He still looks as unkempt as the last time I saw him outside Michael’s office. I should have remembered him, but everything else took precedence. Now I feel like kicking myself, as seeing him helps some of the pieces fall into place.
“He planted you at the club so you could feed him information. Only prospects are mostly kept in the dark.”
