Page 47 of His Every Move

And then?—

A loud, piercing alarm blared through the theater.

The evacuation turned into a stampede.

Chapter17

Benji Morrison

My only goalwas to keep Elijah safe. To get us both out of the theater and as far away from the threat as possible. But when the crowd burst into a run, that job became much,muchmore difficult. Someone knocked against me. Another ran between Elijah and me, breaking my hold on his hand. He reached out to grab it again but was pushed to the side, away from the exit.

The cops were trying to regain the peace, but it was a lost cause. Everyone was terrified that they were moments away from being blown to bits.

Fear tried to sink its gnarled claws into my chest, but I fought it off. Had to keep my mind clear.

Had to protect Eli.

I shouldered someone out of the way and pushed toward the wall where Elijah was plastered. He couldn’t fight the flow of panicked people.

“Benji!”

“Everyone remain calm!”

“I’m coming,” I shouted, almost reaching him just as the lights flickered before shutting completely off. Emergency lights flared white, casting a ghostly glare on the scared expressions. The alarm continued to blare, every ring feeling like a hammer against my skull, trying to knock me out.

“Come on,” I said, reaching Eli and grabbing his hand again. We began to move with the flow of evacuees instead of against. Every second counted. This was likely a false alarm, but there was no need for us to find out. Elijah’s hand squeezed mine so tight I was sure I’d be getting some type of hairline fracture before he let it go.

The first breath of fresh air tasted like heaven, even with the sewer grate pumping out steam only a few feet away from us. The flow of people split in different directions down Broadway. I yanked us to the left and toward the bright lights that marked Times Square.

Elijah looked over his shoulder as we hurried down the street. Even people who weren’t in the theater were beginning to run with the crowd, sensing that something was wrong. Police sirens echoed between the skyscrapers as a bomb squad squeezed through the congested streets, pushing cabs and delivery trucks nearly onto the sidewalk.

Times Square—normally chaotic even on a good day—was packed to the brim with frightened and confused people, a mix of tourists trying to get selfies in front of the massive screens, other people shouting to run and to get out of the way, and knock-off Disney characters in dirty masks asking for money. Spider-Man lifted up his mask, looked at the large group of police trying to regain control, and said, “Fuck this shit,” before running past us.

“This way,” I said, breaking away from the scared flock of people. “We can take the train to my place.”

“Hold on,” Eli said, his hand squeezing mine. “I don’t think I can get on a train right now. Or any enclosed space.”

“That’s fine. Totally fine. We can walk it.”

“Sorry.”

“For what?” I asked.

“Well, one for making you walk, two for making you come to the theater, and three… I can’t help but think this had something to do with Nomad.”

That had been a thought that crossed my mind, too, but I didn’t want to say anything before getting confirmation. The last thing I wanted was for Elijah to think any of this was his fault. “Let’s just focus on getting home and getting safe. We can figure out the rest later.”

Eli let out a heavy sigh. My heart cracked for him. The protective lion inside of me roared to life. If I could get my hands on this Nomad person, I’d wrap them around their neck and squeeze tight until the light leaked from their eyes and the last of their breaths squeaked out of their throat. It was infuriating in ways I hadn’t experienced before. Never once in my seven years of being a detective had I been this personally invested in a case. I knew the logical thing would be to take a step back. Put some distance between me and Elijah so I could think clearly and work more efficiently.

But that was thelastthing I wanted.

We walked in silence for a few more blocks, Elijah likely processing the events. I kept my attention on our surroundings, making sure no one had followed us from the theater. There hadn’t been any sounds of an explosion, so I had to assume that it was a false alarm.

We reached my apartment building after about twenty minutes of walking. “How are you feeling?” I asked as we reached my front door.

“Better after getting fresh air.” He offered me a weak but genuine smile. His lips were glossy from the lip balm he’d applied minutes earlier.

Fuck. I wanted to lean in and kiss him. Would that have crossed a line? How odd, this human experience of ours. This man had been balls-deep inside me, fucking me senseless and filling me up with multiple loads, and yet here I was, wondering if he’d be freaked-out if I kissed him.

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