“Please,” I wheeze, each pulse of pain sharpening my focus on the dock. With every strained movement, memories flood my mind—visions of the taxi I arranged for their escape.
Hisescape.
My eyes close. We’re running from here, running like hell to Bo and Dante.
Hopefully they’re still here.
Doing my best to rein in my torment, I press Izzy against the wooden plank. “Hold on tight.” She grips the aged wood with her tiny fingers while I paddle back, trying to figure out how to get onto it. “Don’t let go.”
My weak arms strain to cut through the current. A wave crashes over me, and I collide with a sharp stone, wincing at the impact on my shoulder. When I finally get back to her, grabbing the wood and gasping for breath, blood is seeping into the fabric of my shirt.
“Daddy! Where’s Daddy?”
“He’s okay,” I pant, brushing the wet hair away from her face with splinters in my fingertips. “He’ll be okay.”
I have no clue if I'm comforting her or myself or if I even believe he’s still breathing, but my husband entrusted me with his daughter to keep her alive. I’ll find a way to do that, even if it seems impossible.
“I need you to be good, Izzy. We have to get to Bo as soon as we can.”
“Bo.” The name visibly gives her some comfort.
“Just do what I say, and we’ll be okay. I promise.”
Isabella’s crying, yet she manages to nod, locking her arms around my neck as my eyes shift to neighboring docks in the distance. Her weight drains my strength fast as I swim towardthem, fighting the tempting urge to let my world fade to black. By the time I reach the nearest dock, my capacity for rational thought has completely abandoned me.
Xavier isn’t dead. He wasn’t even shot. He’s alive.
“Over there!”
The sight of the rusty ladder Isabella is pointing at makes me exhale with relief as I push towards it. “Good. Good girl.”
Thankfully, the corroded steel withstands my weight as I grasp onto the bars. I draw Isabella closer, positioned behind her to prevent her from toppling backward.
“Okay, climb. Quickly, climb,” I gasp, my teeth chattering as I urge her onto each quaking bar. When she scrambles onto the wooden dock, I’m close behind, using my hands to keep myself from collapsing. Without a second to catch my breath, to think it through, I’m lifting his daughter, leaping across the dock barefoot. My shoes are likely resting at the bottom of the river by now.
The riverwalk is full of drunk patrons and college students who blink in surprise as I sprint past them, throwing myself in front of the taxi that is still waiting at the curb.
“What the?—”
I pull the wet cardigan from Isabella’s arms, directing the heat towards her. “I don’t have any money, but I need you to drive.”
“That’s not happening, lady. No money, no?—”
Seizing each side of the cardigan, I swing it over his seat, lodging it to his neck, digging the material into his throat until I hear choking. “I told you to fuckingdrive.”
He screams, and that scream is quickly followed by strangled prayers as he tries to dislodge the material, failing because I’m digging my knee into the back of his seat, using every last bit of strength to pull, show him just how far I can be tested. He doesn’t last long, caving with pleadings, his hand shooting to start the ignition. I barely ease up, gasping as hard as he isonce the car shoots into motion. Isabella watches it all as I become someone else, tears streaming down her face, but I can’t focus on her emotions. As long as she’s breathing, I will keep moving. I will keep her alive.
As soon as the taxi speeds over the bridge, it’s only a few more minutes before we reach Dante’s and Mimi’s apartment. The driver hasn’t even come to a full stop when I drop the wet material onto his lap, snatch up Isabella, and cross the sidewalk. I scream their names as the taxi screeches off onto the next street. “Dante! Bo! Zeke!”
The window snaps open in one swift movement. Bo looks from the top floor before vanishing. By the time he’s sprinted down the stairs, I’m already at the top step of the building. He ushers us in quickly and secures the door before guiding me up the stairs. Isabella is comfortably resting against my chest.
“I’m sure the cops are on their way. I just threatened a taxi driver,” I say, setting Isabella down as we enter the living room. That’s when I notice the apartment is quiet and empty, with various shelves cleared out and pictures stripped from the walls in some places. “Where are they?”
Bo’s eyes wince. “They’re gone.”
“Why areyouhere?”
He waits a fraction of a beat before saying, “I told him I’d wait for you.”
