Page 103 of Crowned

Hide.

Don’t ever trust anyone because they will betray you.

I’m a little girl bleeding on her father’s white carpet, the wrath of a fire-breathing dragon being heaped upon my head. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m picking Viktoria up, slipping my feet into shoes, and wrapping an oversized wool coat over us.

The house is silent as I walk quickly through the halls toward the back door. The door that leads onto the street. I push it open.

Holy shit. I’m outside.

I stand on the steps and stare around me at the path to the dark, deserted street.

Running. It’s comfortable and familiar.

Standing still, that’s the terrifying thing to do.

The cold wind outside hits me like a slap in the face. I lean into it, bowing my head over the child and holding her tight against my chest beneath the layers of wool.

Keep moving forward.

Don’t look back.

There is no friend I can go to. No refuge I can see. All is black and silent apart from the wind whistling in my ears. All is dark above and before me, the clouds so heavy that not a star can be seen. There is nothing—

Except for the neon glow of an official-looking sign. A train station? I’ve heard a train rattling in the distance on clear days when the windows are open. A station means somewhere to wait and gather my thoughts. A means to slip away.

This late at night, the ticket barriers are open.

As I step onto the platform, a programmed voice announces,The next train to arrive on platform one…

I don’t have money for a ticket. I lean forward and peer down the tracks. A train is approaching that’s heading toward the city. A place where I can throw myself on the mercy of a station worker and ask for directions to a women’s refuge.

The train slows down while I wait behind the yellow line. The train glides to a halt before me. The doors open.

When they close and the train moves off again, I’m still standing on the platform.

I’m frozen in place, and it has nothing to do with the cold.

Viktoria stirs in my arms. Tears run down my face.

I’ve run so many times before and been just as badly prepared, so why does it hurt so much now?

Isn’t it my duty as a mother who loves her child to run far, far away from these men?

Footsteps pound along the sidewalk out by the road.

A man rushes onto the platform, quickly peering up and down, and he’s about to run out again when he spots me.

I wait for fear to slam through me.

But it’s not fear I feel.

It’s relief.

“Lilia.”

He races toward me, his frosty blue eyes alive with fear. When he’s close enough to see inside my coat and the sleeping baby, he breaks into a stream of relieved Russian.

“I woke up and you were both gone,” Elyah gasps, wrapping one arm around us and digging out his phone and making a call to the other. “I have found her. She is at the train station. We will wait here.”

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