Page 86 of Delivered to the Devil

Ricco proceeds to explain various details, but I’m not paying attention anymore. The only thing I can focus on is that I’m going to see Janos again. He’s alive, and soon I’ll be standing in front of him, staring up into his willful eyes, feeling the potent mix of danger and the safety in his mighty presence.

I start getting ready immediately even though there’s not much to prepare. The last thing I do is to leave a note for my sister:I’m sorry. Please don’t try to find me.

CHAPTER 41

“It Never Ends”

by Bring Me the Horizon

Rebecca

A week later, Spike drops me off at a metro station on the outskirts of Budapest at six in the morning.

After eighteen hours in a car, I’m exhausted, my muscles are achy, and my body is sticky with sweat. I barely got any sleep during the drive, and when we got close to the border, Spike told me to get into the trunk, where he buried me beneath a thick pile of musty blankets and clothes and told me to stay quiet. There I stayed for two hours until we finally reached this desolate train station.

From here on, it’s up to me to get to Janos unnoticed. It’s tempting to find a hotel and get some sleep before I go on, but I won’t let anything get in my way. I need to get to Janos as soon as possible. Every wasted minute is one more minute that increases the risk of Gabor finding out I’m here. I know I’m probably being paranoid, but I’ve learned the hard way that no amount of paranoia is too much when dealing with Gabor.

Spike pulls the hood on my oversized hoodie over my head and confirms my reason for caution, “Keep it on at all times. You can’t be too careful.”

Taking Ricco’s advice, I’ve dressed in jeans, a hoodie, and sneakers to look as anonymous as possible. Everything I have with me is crammed into the pockets of my clothes. My health insurance card, a burner phone, and a wad of Hungarian forint in my jeans, and the teddy bear with sparkling eyes and my passport in the hoodie.

“Here’s the address,” Spike says, shoving a piece of paper into my hand. “Good luck.”

He gets back into the car, and dust whirs around the wheels as he takes off. Nervousness skitters down my arms, making me shuffle and fidget. I stare after the car as it disappears down the road, almost running after it to beg him to take me back with him. But the moment I open the paper and see Janos’s name scrawled at the top along with an address, determination rises anew.

Using the burner phone Ricco gave me, I look up the address to find that it’s in the inner part of the city. It will take two trains, one metro, and one bus to get there.

Two very long hours later, I’m finally on the right street, scouring for number forty.

It’s one of the many narrow, one-way streets of the city that has parked cars lining both sides of the road and old buildings with intricate façades, balconies, and decorative moldings that reflect the city’s rich history—and its current state. Half the buildings are well-kept and shiny, whereas the rest are crumbling, bearing testament to the decay and poverty that has crept in to stay.

Expecting number forty to fit the sordid category, I almost gasp when I locate it and stare up at a beautiful six-story building with fresh yellow paint, arched white windows, and twisted iron rails framing the balconies.

I don’t know why I expected a run-down house. Janos may be a criminal, but unlike back home, crime comes in so manydifferent colors and shades in this town, and Janos is at the very top of the hierarchy, working for one of the most powerful men this country has to offer.

Instinctively, I step back when I spot a camera on the side of the building. Fortunately, my hood is pulled tight around my face, so hopefully it hasn’t caught a good picture of me.

I pull the hood a little closer and step up to the door again to look at the names on the intercom. Several of the buttons are blank, and since I only have the building number, I have no idea which one to press.

My finger hovers over a random one, but I jerk it back when I consider that it might be the right one. The idea of hearing Janos’s voice through the speaker has me flustered and doubting everything.

I have no idea what I’m doing.

How will he react when he realizes it’s me? Will he even let me in? It’s been six months, and who’s to say he hasn’t moved on and found another girl? Or that he doesn’t want that kind of a burden—especially not a jumpy, weak woman like me, marred with scars all over her upper body that will never go away.

I step away from the door and walk down the street with my head held low. I end up wandering back and forth like this, unable to do what I came here for, for a whole hour. Every now and then, I cast a glance at the beautiful, yellow building, and sometimes I veer down a side street to stop and watch it from a discreet distance. And that’s where I’m standing when the tall wooden door opens and a big, broad man dressed in a suit and black sunglasses comes out. I whip around and start walking, but when I glance back and see him going in the opposite direction, I pause.

With my pulse pounding in my throat, I stare after him. His gait is purposeful and confident, his suit ripples over his smoothmuscles, and the sleeves draw up with every other step, just enough to reveal black ink on his left arm.

It’s really him.

My heart thunders as I watch him—aching for him. Before I know it, I’m walking too. Following him.

I have no idea what I’m doing; I just know I need to be close to him. But not too close. As I watch the lethal power in his firm strides and wide build, fear creeps along my spine—a fear all too similar to the one I felt when I lay beneath my bed the first night and felt his massive hand close around my arm as he dragged me out. All my instincts screech for me to get away from him, yet there’s a part of me that pounds with aching longing for him. So I keep following, not closing the distance and also not lessening it.

He turns down several streets, and I barely notice where we’re going until he goes into a passageway like the one that led into the courtyard at the apartment Gabor got for me. I pause, considering what to do—wait at a distance for him to return or follow into the courtyard. But I can’t think. My pulse pounds and my head whirs. All I know is that I’ve lost him—I can’t see him—and that scares me more than anything. So I set off down the street at a brisk pace until I reach the passageway, where I pause at the corner, carefully peeking into the wide opening.

It’s a deep gate cutting through the first floor of the building, and there’s another opening in the building across the courtyard that he could have easily gone through. Drawing back, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Then I step into the dark passageway and make my way forward on stealthy feet. I don’t know why I’m acting like a monster is waiting for me in the courtyard; Janos must have surely gone into the building or into the opposite street. Yet my pulse keeps speeding up with each step I take, but all that appears are more windows and the corners of the courtyard.

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