Page 53 of Tormented Oath

My hand drifts to my stomach again.

"We're doing the right thing," I whisper, though I'm not sure who I'm trying to convince—myself or this tiny life that's changed everything.

The lobby is empty except for the night security guard, Joey, who always sneaks cigarettes by the loading dock at three a.m. He doesn’t notice me as I pass right behind him.

Outside, the night air hits me like a slap. Chicago sprawls around me, all glittering lights and dark promises. Somewhere out there, Tony's waiting, probably cursing my name. Somewhere out there, the Fioris are expecting information I'll never deliver.

And forty-two floors above me, Stefano sleeps, unaware that his world is about to change.

My old car sits in the far corner of the garage, looking even more pathetic next to the luxury vehicles surrounding it. But it's mine. Clean. Safe.

The key slides into the ignition, and for one terrifying moment, I think it won't start—that fate or karma or just bad timing will trap me here.

But the engine turns over, coughing to life like it knows what's at stake.

Time to go.

Time to run.

Time to save everyone by leaving everything behind.

I just hope someday, somehow, Stefano will understand why I had to go.

Even if I don’t quite understand it myself.

* * *

The club's neon sign cuts through the fog, painting The Silk Rose in shades of purple and blue.

Tony's hunched figure paces near the service entrance, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Even from here, I can read the tension in his shoulders, the angry set of his jaw.

I pull up beside him, rolling down the window. "Get in."

"What the hell, Ava?" He yanks the door open but doesn't get in. "It's the middle of the night. I was hanging with?—"

"Now." My voice comes out harder than intended, making him flinch. "We're leaving. All of it. Tonight."

Something in my tone must reach him because he slides into the passenger seat without further argument. The car dips with his weight, the suspension groaning in protest.

"Where's the fancy car?" he asks as I pull away from the curb. "The one your sugar daddy gave you?"

"Don't." The word comes out sharp, dangerous. "Don't talk about him like that."

Tony turns to study me, and sometimes I forget how perceptive he can be when he's not lost in his own problems. "Holy shit. You actually care about him."

I keep my eyes on the road, knuckles white on the steering wheel. "We need to stop at the motel. Get our things. Then we're gone."

"Just like that? No explanation? No?—"

"Yes, just like that." I take a corner too fast, making us both grab for support. "It's what we do, isn't it? Run before things get messy. Before people get hurt."

"Before you get hurt, you mean."

The words hit hard. Because he's right, isn't he? I'm running to protect Stefano, to protect our baby, but also to protect myself. From love. From trust. From everything I've spent my life avoiding.

We ride in silence until we reach the motel. Tony follows me up to our room, watching as I gather our meager belongings with mechanical efficiency.

I’m glad I didn’t get much of my stuff to Stefano’s apartment when Tony decided to stay here. Makes my escape just a bit easier.

---