Page 32 of The Woman with the Handcuffs

And, well, I simply wouldn’t survive under torture. I knew my strengths and weaknesses. Enduring pain was not something I was good at. More than that, I just didn’t want to experience it.

So, yeah, I had to go.

It wasn’t like I had a whole lot to hold onto in this life. I’d left my father to go away to college, thinking the world was opening wide for me. I thought I would finish my degree, get a great job, then be living large in a big city with tons of friends and this rich, expansive life.

But I struggled in college. In my academics, with my social life—everything. I knuckled down and graduated, got the first job that offered me benefits, and just… stayed there. I didn’t like it. I also didn’t dislike it enough to leave. I did make a few friends back when we all went into the office, but when most of the company went to remote work, my world just narrowed further.

So, while I was lucky enough that I got to live alone in the city, I wasn’t overly attached to my apartment itself. I wouldn’t mourn leaving it.

The books, though.

The books would break my heart to have to leave behind.

But… but this didn’t have to be forever, right? I could pack the essentials and leave. Keep paying my bills. Let my apartment sit empty while the mob kept an eye. Eventually, they would believe I was never coming back and stop watching.

Then I could come back and pack things up, bring them to whatever new situation I figured out.

Decision made, I rushed into my closet, finding the busted old rolling suitcase, duffle, and weekender bags.

Suddenly, I was thankful for my life on the road with my father. I knew exactly what I needed to be able to function on the run without weighing myself down or feeling entirely deprived.

So in went the toiletries, medical kit, medications, and supplements. Then there were the types of things that weren’t necessary but made life more tolerable: a tablet, laptop, comfort items like my squishy pillow and a soft blanket. You needed a lot fewer clothes than you’d think. Which left room for reusable coffee and water bottles, the book I was currently reading, and one or two sentimental items—just in case.

I went to my fridge, emptying out anything that might spoil. I took out the trash.

The rituals helped me focus, to keep the anxiety at bay.

Once I was sure everything was clean and turned off, I made some coffee and sat on my phone, trying to find a place to rent temporarily where I wouldn’t be found.

I was a city girl through-and-through, but I was looking for places in the woods. The kind of little cabins in the middle of nowhere that were hard to find even if you had directions. That was a place I could disappear for a while. Would I likely go half-crazy secluded like that with nothing but my spiraling thoughts and creepy night sounds to keep me company? Yep. But if it kept me alive long enough to track down my father, then that was what I needed to endure.

I checked my bank account, wondering how long I could rent the cute little one-room cabin I’d found way deep in Upstate New York and still pay my bills at my apartment.

I booked it for two weeks, figuring I could likely get an extension. Or, if not, find another place. And moving around was probably a good idea anyway. Just in case.

With that handled, I remembered to walk around, closing all my blinds, opening up my under-sink cabinets, and checking that the thermostat would keep things above freezing.

It was still early fall. But the weather swings had been crazy all year, and I didn’t want to risk frozen pipes.

I moved my bags beside the door.

I wouldn’t be able to get into the cabin until the next day. But I couldn’t stay. I could just take the long way. Sleep in my car, if necessary.

But I had to get out of the damn city as quickly as possible.

I reached for the doorknob, pulling the door open, then yelping.

My heart shot up into my throat as my belly sloshed around ominously.

Gavino glanced at me, then down at my luggage set by the door.

“Going somewhere?”

Oh, God.

This could not be happening.

Not this quickly.