Page 15 of Fatal Bonds

“Fine. If the boss lets you do it.” He turns, leading the way back into the hallway.

Heart skipping a beat, I snatch up the grease-stained bag and follow him, my cozy socks muffling my steps as I pad across the wood floor. As we reach the bottom of the stairs, my eyes flick toward the front door. It’s firmly closed, and Maks’s words echo in my mind—it locks from the outside.I haven’t thought about making a run for it during his visits since he moved me upstairs, but with a shift in routine—and guards—I suddenly can’t seem to stop myself.

Forcing my gaze to the kitchen table, I pass the door leading to the basement. Bright late-morning light filters through the sliding glass door to the backyard, and I settle into a chair near it, appreciating the sun’s warmth. My breakfast this morning is a disappointment compared to Maks’s cooking, but the english muffin loaded with eggs, bacon, and cheese will fill me up.

Grease runs down my chin as I take a big bite. “Thanks for the food,” I say, around the mouthful, hoping I can ingratiate myself to Maks’s man.

But he just grunts, folding his arms across his broad chest once more as he watches me with single-minded focus.Not much of a talker, I guess.But as I eat, a thought occurs to me. He was pretty easy to convince when I told him that Maks lets me eat downstairs. I might be able to use that to my advantage. My pulse quickens, and it takes all my willpower not to glance toward the backyard as I take another bite of sandwich. I force myself to eat as if I have all the time in the world, and only after I’ve finished my last bite do I wipe my mouth and stand.

“Alright, back to your room,” the giant commands, reaching for my arm to steer me in that direction.

I take a step back out of his reach, my heart pummeling my ribs. “But Maks usually lets me go outside for a little while after breakfast—you know, for a bit of fresh air.” I gesture toward the backyard, doing my best to sound casual and maybe a bit put out.

The behemoth glances toward the yard, doubt and confusion flickering across his face.

“Oh, come on. It’s not like I have anywhere to run anyway. The fence is way too high to climb,” I point out. I’m not lying. It’s an eight-foot wood-plank fence with no perpendicular panels on my side to help me step up. But I’ve spent hours staring out at the yard, looking for an escape route as I daydreamed about finding a way to slip outside.

“Alright,” he says finally. “But only for a little while.” His thick sausage fingers fumble with the lock, then the bar ensuring no one can break in.

My stomach lurches as he slides the door open, gesturing for me to go outside. I do quickly, the cement turning my stocking feet to ice as soon as I step out onto the patio, and I take my first breath of the cold Chicago air in days. Slipping off my socks, I stuff them in the front pocket of my hoodie and walk to the edge of the porch, stepping onto the dry grass. Pulse roaring in my ears, I take my time casually strolling around the space, dawdling to watch a squirrel climb a tree. It doesn’t take long for Maks’s man to lose interest in me, his eyes shifting to the fence as a dog starts to bark. And as I near the bird bath at the back of the yard, I carefully assess it to make sure I’m capable of what I want to do.

Taking a shaky breath, I ready myself, and I plant my palms on the edge of the bath, testing its stability. Then, with a burst of energy, I heave myself up onto the curved platform and lean across the distance to brace myself against the top of the fence.

“Hey!”

It took my guard no time at all to notice what I’m up to, and cold panic floods my veins as I kick it into full gear, shoving my torso over the top of the fence and tumbling to the grass on the far side. I land hard but try to cushion the fall as I roll out of it and scramble to my feet. Then I’m running, tearing across the yard I fell into as I head for the chain link gate to their side yard. I know I can’t outrun Maks’s man for long, but if I can find somewhere to hide or get to the L train, maybe I won’t have to. My only problem is I have no idea where the hell I am.

Bursting past the trees lining the property, I hit the sidewalk of the neighboring street and glanced in both directions. It’s a fifty-fifty chance I pick the right way to go, and I choose left since it’s nearer the next intersection and a corner to turn to keep me out of sight. My feet scream as they strike the cold, hard ground, but I ignore the pain, pushing myself to run as far and as fast as I can. Thankfully, I’ve traded out my club outfit for leggings and a warm hoodie, so the bitter wind isn’t nearly as excruciating as the night I ran from the club.

To my relief, as soon as I round the street corner, cutting across the grass to shorten the distance, I spot the cables and tracks for the L train up ahead. I just need to find the nearest stop. My lungs are burning, my legs cramping as I push them to the limit of their capabilities, but as I reach the next street and look over my shoulder, I don’t see Maks’s man. I could dip into the Walgreens on the corner and call the police, but I would much rather put more distance between me and the behemoth who’s probably on my heels, and I don’t like the idea of sitting so close by and waiting for help.I can make it to the next stop.I can see the train station a block down to my left, and I head for it at a sprint. It’s not particularly busy as I enter, but unfortunately, I don’t have my Ventra card at home, so as the kiosk guard turns his back, I hop the turnstile blocking me from getting on the train.

The guard’s objection chases me up the stairs, but I keep going, determined to get on the train before it leaves the station. I barely make it in time, squeezing past the doors as they hiss closed, then I fall into a seat as the floor shifts beneath me. Panting, I turn to look out the window behind me. I don’t see Maks’s man, and relief floods my chest.I did it. I got away.I’m still reeling from the accomplishment. If the stitch in my side weren’t anchoring me to reality, I could almost believe this is just a dream. Slumping back in my chair, I rake in deep lungfuls of air and notice the older couple sitting across from me.

The gray-haired woman stares down at my bare feet before looking at my face, her open concern growing. “Are you alright, honey?”

“Honestly, no. I don’t even know where the hell I am. Can you tell me where I’d find the nearest police station?”

She shares a worried glance with her husband, and his bushy white eyebrows press into a frown. “From the Purple Line? Well, I suppose it would be the one off Larrabee, but the nearest stop to it would probably be Sedgwick, and it’s a good half-mile walk from there,” he says, his eyes shifting pointedly to my feet.

Digging my fluffy socks from my hoodie pocket, I pull them onto my feet. “That’s fine. Thank you.” I glance up at the train map noting the seven stops between Sedgwick and the South Boulevard station, where I got on.

“Are you in trouble, dear? Do you need help?” the gray-haired woman asks, her worry cutting deep lines in her wrinkled face.

Yes, but I don’t know what I could possibly ask them for.Protection? Shelter?I don’t want to put the couple at risk—besides, that’s why I need the police. But I could at least alert them to my situation before I get to the police station. “Well, could I use your phone?”

The woman nods, pulling her phone from an oversized handbag and passing it to me. I google the Larrabee police station to call it directly. Still, I have to jump through several hoops before I can speak to an actual officer.

“This is Officer Petty. You’re calling to report a missing person?” he says as soon as he comes on the line.

“No, I’m calling to say I’vebeen missing. I was kidnapped by a man named Maks…” My voice trails off as I realize I don’t know his last name. Vaguely, I recall Claire mentioning it that first night at the club, but I didn’t retain the information. “Well, I don’t actually know his full name. But he owns the nightclub called the Dungeon. I was taken several days ago, and I just managed to escape. I need your help.”

The line is silent long enough that I start to wonder if I lost the connection, and I pull it away from my ear to check.

“Where are you now?” the officer asks finally.

“On a train, headed toward the Larrabee police station.”

“Are you safe?”

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