Page 30 of Lady and the Hitman
My thighs pressed together instinctively.
I opened the door.
The Miami air slammed into me—humid, salty, alive. A hundred sounds layered over each other: waves, laughter, music, footsteps, engines, breath.
I walked.
Crossed the street. Entered the chaos of Bayside.
And slid the earpiece in.
Static. Then?—
“Good girl.”
His voice was warm velvet in my ear. Private. Possessive. Like he’d climbed inside my head and locked the door behind him.
“Turn right.”
I obeyed.
“Slower.”
I slowed my pace.
People passed around me—families, couples, women in sundresses, men in floral shirts and sunglasses. None of them knew what I was doing. None of them could hear him.
“Don’t smile,” he said. “You’re not here to be seen.”
I dropped the corners of my mouth. Tried to still the heat blooming in my chest.
“You’re here to be felt.”
I exhaled, shaky.
It hit me, all at once, how easily I could vanish.
No one knew where I was.
Not Mina. Not my parents. Not a single soul on this planet could say with certainty where I had gone or with whom.
I could disappear tonight. Be drugged. Caged. Sold.
Trafficked.
I could become one of those stories people whisper about but never really believe. The kind that start with a girl who seemed too smart to fall for something like this.The kind that end with a missing persons flyer curled up in the corner of a gas station bulletin board. Faded. Torn. Forgotten.
My mom would never recover. My dad would blame himself. And Mina—God, Mina would drown in guilt. She’d call the cops. Raise hell. Tear the whole world apart trying to retrace my steps.
But she wouldn’t find me.
Because I hadn’t left a single clue.
And yet?—
I kept walking.
Because despite the chilling plausibility of my own worst-case scenario, I trusted him.
