Page 44 of Fierce Lies
When we reached the van parked in the alley behind my building, Alfeo ordered Ivy and me into the van, before the kid helped Jackson in.
The interior was stripped down to just the metal, and there were stains all around that made my stomach lurch. The roll of black plastic at the far end made me bite my lip.
This was a van where people died.
I moved and sat against the beside Ivy while the kid helped Jackson over.
"Thank you," I mumbled to him as he set Jackson down beside me, and I instantly returned to applying pressure on his leg.
"Don't thank me," the kid muttered, unable to meet my gaze.
He turned and exited the van, only for Alfeo to suddenly turn his gun on him.
"On your knees," he growled as the kid finished helping Jackson into the van.
The kid froze, terror flashing across his young face. He couldn't have been more than nineteen. My stomach clenched so violently I thought I might vomit as he slowly sank to his knees, his breath coming in audible, ragged gasps, eyes wide and pleading.
"Don't," Jackson said, his voice strained but firm. "You can still turn this around. Don't hurt the kid."
Alfeo's face twisted with indecision, sweat beading on his upper lip.
"One family death can be explained away," Jackson continued. "A mistake, an accident. Not two. Not like this."
"Shut up," Alfeo snapped, his knuckles whitening around the gun. "Let me think."
Ivy and I exchanged terrified glances, and I held her gaze, not wanting to look at the kid if Alfeo pulled the trigger. My pulse thundered in my ears. I couldn't watch another person die, couldn't bear more blood seeping into the pavement outside my home. The metallic smell of Jackson's blood already filled my nostrils, making my head swim. The image of the other mandead on my floor wouldn't leave my mind, how the blood had sprayed out of him and then pooled around his lifeless form.
"You really think we can explain this away?" Alfeo asked Jackson after a long moment, his voice cracking.
"Yes," Jackson said firmly, though his face had gone ash-gray. "But only if you let the kid live. And only if he's willing to say it was an accident."
Alfeo looked at the kneeling teenager, who was now shaking so badly I thought he was going to pass out. "Will you?"
The kid nodded frantically, keeping his gaze on the ground. "Yes. Whatever you need. It was an accident. I swear to God."
Alfeo's face hardened into decision. "Get the fuck out of here," he told the kid. "Now. Before I change my mind."
The kid scrambled to his feet, stumbling twice before disappearing down the alley without looking back.
"You three, any sound from you, any screaming, and I'll put a bullet between your eyes and they'll never find your bodies, got that?" Alfeo snapped, spittle flying from his mouth. He waited until we all nodded before he scoffed.
It wasn't until Alfeo slammed the van doors shut that Ivy and I let out the breaths we'd been holding. Her entire body trembled against mine. At least the kid would live.
My bound hands fumbled as I propped Jackson's leg up on my own while trying to keep the pressure. I needed to apply it to both the entry and exit wound, which was hard to do on this angle. His blood was warm and sticky between my fingers, and I drew in a steadying breath, knowing I needed to keep my composure.
Alfeo climbed into the driver's seat, muttering curses under his breath. Then the engine roared to life, and we sped off.
For some bizarre reason, the one thought it my head was if anyone would find the body soon, or if it would decompose andstink out the apartment. My landlord would never know what the hell had happened.
"This is such a mess," Ivy whispered, her voice breaking on the last word. Her mascara had run from some stray tears at some point, leaving black tracks down her pale cheeks.
I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. My thoughts turned to my mom alone in her hospital room, tubes and monitors her only companions. If I died tonight, would she at least get my life insurance payout? Would it be enough for the experimental treatment? It seemed like a sick consolation, but I needed to believe something good might come from this nightmare.
Ivy must have read my expression. "It's going to be okay, Elena," she said, though her voice quavered with uncertainty.
"If I die," I said quietly, my words barely audible over the van's engine, "do you think my mom will still get the life insurance? Murder still counts for a payout, right?" My voice cracked on "murder," the reality of our situation hitting me anew.
"Probably," Ivy said with a sigh, as if she'd checked out of the situation or gone numb to it. Probably the latter. "But only if they can prove it was murder. Only if they find our bodies."
