Page 48 of Fierce Lies
He glanced at me. "Depends. The kid may tell the Donatis the truth to keep the alliance strong. Roman might get uneasy when I don't pick up my phone, or if that neighbor of yours called the police." He shrugged slightly. "There's a lot of variables at play here. But we've got no phones. No trackers. No way to be found." The resignation in his voice chilled me. This was a man who'd faced death before and recognized its approach.
"So they'll look for you," Ivy said, hope threading through her voice.
"Eventually," Jackson confirmed. "But they won't know where to start."
Unless the neighbor called the police. Unless someone saw the van. Unless, unless, unless. Too many variables, too many things that had to go exactly right for us to survive this.
The truth settled like a weight in my chest, crushing the last of my hope.
We were on our own. My mother would die without me there. And it was all because I'd been too stubborn to let the past stay buried. Too desperate to save the one person I needed to save and chase after a ghost.
I worked at Ivy's restraints, my fingers numb and clumsy. The rope was tight, cutting into her wrists. I could see angry red marks where she'd struggled against them.
"Almost got it," I whispered, more to keep myself focused than to reassure her.
The final knot gave way, and Ivy flexed her hands, wincing as blood rushed back into her fingers. She kept her wrists close together, maintaining the illusion of being bound.
"How bad is the leg?" I asked quietly as I glanced over it.
"It's just a graze."
"Yeah, and I'm a Sunday teacher," Ivy quipped. "Lies got us into this mess, let's agree to not lie, especially if these are our final moments."
"I'm good with that," I murmured, a shiver rippling through me at her blunt words. I glanced up at Jackson, and his eyes met mine.
"I've had worse."
"That's not an answer." I shook my head while Ivy sighed heavily.
"You really like to say it could be worse, don't ya?" Ivy muttered. "Bet you'd be fantastic to sit beside in a crashing plane."
"It's a through-and-through. Missed the artery or I'd be dead already." His clinical assessment made me frown.
Outside, I could hear Alfeo's muffled voice.
"Is he on the phone?" Ivy asked softly. "I thought he threw it out the window when we started driving."
"He probably did. Can't be tracked that way," Jackson agreed. "He's likely trying to talk himself through all of this. Figure out his options."
"Great, just what we need, him having a mental breakdown with a gun," I whispered. "What should we do now?"
"Now we wait," he said. "And when the moment comes, we move fast."
Ivy shifted closer to me. "If we get separated?—"
"We won't," I cut her off, unable to bear the thought. Of us running for our lives as Alfeo chased us, or worse. If one of us…
"Elena." Ivy's voice was firm, the way it got when she was about to tell me something I didn't want to hear. "If we get separated, meet at your mom's hospital. In her room."
I swallowed hard and nodded. The mention of my mother sent a fresh wave of guilt crashing over me. What had I been thinking, playing detective against the Donati family? I'd dragged my best friend into this mess, gotten Jackson shot, and for what? For money?
For my mom.
"I don't know how to fix this, any of this," I whispered, the words inadequate against the magnitude of what I'd done.
Jackson's eyes found mine in the dim light of the van. "Save it for when we're out of here. You haven't done anything wrong. We'll figure all of this out."
"If we get out of here," I corrected.
