Page 143 of Ivory Oath

“You take the left, I take the right, and neither of us die,” I suggest.

He smiles. “My thoughts exactly.”

On a silent count of three, I roll out from behind the planter, get to my feet, and weave into the store. Raoul is a dark blur to my left.

The electricity in the building is off, so the back of the store is dark. I don’t want to fire at random and risk hitting Dante, but the broad-shouldered shadow pointing a gun at me doesn't have the same concern. Bullets whizz past my head, but I keep my focus trained on him.

When I'm close enough, I aim for his head.

The first shot ricochets off of a metal shelving unit in the wall behind him. He ducks, dropping his gun. My second shot hits him in the neck.

He falls behind a rack of skimpy clothes, loudly choking on his own blood.

There’s a muffled curse from the corner of the store, and Raoul descends there. Something flickers in the air—a small, silver flash. I don’t have time to follow it. I check to make sure the man I shot is down and then position myself behind Raoul to back him up. But he doesn’t need it. He’s standing on the other man’s neck.

“Where is the kid?” Raoul snarls.

“Nearby,” I announce. I don’t know how I know, but I do. I feel it. “He threw something when you got close.”

“I heard it hit the floor,” Raoul confirms. He drives his heel into the man’s throat. “What was it?”

His tongue swells out from between his blue-tinged lips. “Nothing.”

I reach for the door behind his head, but it’s locked.

“Was it a key?” I guess.

The guard sinks into the floor like he wants to dissolve there.

“If you want to watch him, I can find the key,” Raoul offers.

I wave him off and turn to face the door. “I don’t need it.”

I draw back and then, with everything I have, throw my shoulder into the door. The knob and bolt don’t budge, but all it takes is one blow and the cheap, hollow door caves in. I ram it with my shoulder twice more, until there’s a sizable dent. Then I grab the clothes rack behind me and spear it into the opening.

Splinters and wood dust explode into the air, but I ignore it all as I widen the hole. Once I’ve punched through to the other side, I reach through the door and turn the lock.

The back room smells like the employees left in such a hurry they forgot to clean out their lunches. It’s rotten meat and curdled milk. As much as I want Dante to be in here, I don’t want him to be stuck in this hellhole.

I throw an arm over my nose. “Dante?”

The guard outside the door says something, but Raoul quiets him with a kick to the face.

Everything goes quiet and I listen—not moving, not breathing. “Dante?” I call again.

Seconds tick past so slowly it’s painful. Then, finally, I hear rustling.

It could be a mouse. Or a homeless person hiding out in the bowels of the building. But why would two of Christos’ guards be assigned to guard the rat population?

“Dante?” I edge slowly around a tall shelf in the middle of the room so I can see the back corner. “It’s me, kid. It’s Dad.”

There’s another shuffling sound, and I can see a small shadow near the ground. Tiny limbs shifting against the dusty tile. Then, the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.

“Dad?”

For the first time in hours, I take a full breath.

I almost black out with sheer relief as I leap around the corner and pull Dante into my arms. He’s shaking and whimpering, but he’s breathing. His chest is rising and falling. His arms and legs are attached. He’s as perfect as he was the last time I saw him, and I’ve never been more grateful for anything in my life.

---