Page 139 of Inked Adonis

Their laughter follows him back to their game. I pull myself up using the yellowing sink, cranking the tap to mask my movements. After swallowing several desperate mouthfuls of metallic-tasting water, I fake another round of retching.

More distant laughter. They’ve already forgotten about me.

I count to one hundred. Then one hundred more. Long enough for the alcohol to dull their senses further. Long enough for complacency to set in.

Then I grab my crutch and crack open the bathroom door.

Slowly, so slowly I don’t even feel like I’m moving, I make my way down the hallway. Light leaks from around a partially opened door, and raucous male laughter slithers through the same gap. Whether there are other guards on duty besides these, I have no idea.

I ease past the door, barely even breathing. I’m just on the other side of it when a man shouts. I think he’s raising the alarm bell, and I’m seconds away from breaking into whatever form of sprint I’m capable of when I hear him laugh.

“Casey was bluffing! He’s got nothing!”

The table erupts in more laughter, and I blow out a breath and continue on my way.

Finally, I turn a corner into what looks like an old showroom for a car dealership. Faded safety awards and advertisements still cling to the water-stained walls. The windows have been papered over, but even the newspapers are rotten with age.

Through a crack in the filth, I see a door.

Forgetting all about guards and cameras, I shuffle as fast as I can across the dusty tile floor and throw my weight against the door.

Locked.

My heart sinks. Fuck. Fucking fuck. I pirouette in a slow, painful circle in search of?—

There.On the other side of the room is another door. I resume my stagger, trying to be quick and silent at the same time. At least the pain has receded—adrenaline has taken its place and numbed every limb.

My entire world has shrunk down to one door and one word.

Please, please, please, please, ple?—

I reach it and batter my good side into the door—and it swings open so fast I almost fall on my face.

But it’s open.

And I’m free.

A van and sedan squat in the parking lot like watchdogs. No way to tell if they’re rigged with alarms or cameras, so I swing wide around the building’s back corner. Through the gloom, I spot a line of trees in the distance.

Dense. Dark.

Perfect.

I channel everything I have into making it across the parking lot and into the treeline. Once I’m there, they won’t be able to find me.

My brothers never could. When Dad was gone and they were in charge, I would hide in the trees surrounding the embankment behind our house. I’d curl into a ball and hide in the brush, staying perfectly silent until they got tired of searching and went back inside.

I’ve done it before.

I can do it again.

I channel every ounce of that survival instinct into crossing the cracked pavement. Each step sends shockwaves of pain through my leg, but adrenaline numbs the worst of it. Twenty yards feels like twenty miles, but I force myself forward. One halting step. Then another.

The tree line shimmers like a mirage. Closer. Closer.

A sob tears free the moment I step into the cool shadows. I clamp my hand over my mouth, stifling any other sounds that might escape. Thorns and branches scrape my skin as I pick my way deeper into the darkness.

Away from the building. Away from Ilya. Away from death.

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