I do as instructed, screeching through a red light to a cacophony of angry horn blares and squealing brakes.
It’s been too long.
I’m taking too long.
All it takes is a second. One second to take a life.
Why the fuck didn’t she just stay where I told her to? Is she seriously lacking that much in self-preservation?
“So,” Pidge speaks up. “What did you do to get landed with princess duty?”
“I saved her life.”
“And this is your punishment?”
“Fucking feels like it,” I mutter. “I was right there. I was right beside her and these drunken fucks just…” I trail off into a low grumble.
“It happens. This isn’t like out there,” Pidge says, his voice low. “People in the real world are fucking stupid and reckless. They don’t understand danger like we do.”
“I’ve never lost a mark, Pidge. Not ever.”
“Does this really count?”
“If she dies, I die.”
“Dramatic,” Pidge snorts. “But yeah…that’s why they call princess duty a death sentence.”
“Oh they do, do they?” I snap. “You’re so wrapped up in how the mafia works maybe we should switch places.”
“Depends. How are your computer skills?”
I curse under my breath, streaking through the next red light and speeding down several streets until Pidge finally locates the cab’s last stop.
It drove to the edge of the city near the water and Pidge’s only proof that Aerin got out of the cab is that the driver picked up another fare ten minutes later.
My heart sinks.
“There’s nothing there,” Pidge says. “The place is a deadzone. There are a couple of abandoned warehouses that used to belong to a bakery company that went bust five years ago, but that’s it. No clubs. Nothing. Maybe an underground party?”
“Maybe.”
By the time I arrive, Aerin’s been out of my sight for forty-seven minutes. “Thanks Pidge. I owe you one.”
“You owe me many,” is Pidge’s reply as I hang up.
My gun’s in my hand before I’m even out of the car. T
he stink of oil and saltwater fills the air as I scan the dark parking lot illuminated by a single streetlight that’s fighting with all its might to keep its flickering bulb alive.
Three warehouses.
Not enough time to check them all.
Suddenly, a squeal of laughter echoes through the air, and my attention zeroes in on the furthest warehouse tucked up against the riverbank.
More laughter follows.
I start sprinting and I don’t stop until I’ve cleared the length of the parking lot. I race around a couple of concrete bollards, over discarded rusty trolleys, and up onto the top of a large dumpsteras soon as I spot a second-floor broken window large enough for me to get through.
