Page 285 of Ruins
“Santo!” Angelo’s voice snaps from behind me. Urgent.
But I don’t stop.
I can’t stop.
Not now.
Not when she needs me.
I sprint for the garage, breath sharp, lungs burning, I reach the broken garage door.
My stomach free-falls. I raise my gun and barrel forward.
I rush past my vehicles, my nerves blazing at the deafening silence.
Swallowing hard, I keep my gun ready as I step into the glow of the basement.
My heart pounds against my ribs, every pulse a countdown to whatever waits for me.
And then I see them. Two lifeless bodies. Both Armenian. My eyes sweep over the scene.
A bloodstained knife.
Dark, wet pools of crimson seeping into the concrete.
The squelch of my shoes pressing into the blood makes my stomach tighten.
Where is she?
My eyes scan the basement, frantic, searching for any trace of her, of what happened here.
A flicker of silver amidst the crimson splatters catches my eye.
My breath catches.
I crouch, my fingers closing around the delicate chain.
Her necklace.
My grip tightens around the tiny charm, a surge of panic roaring through me. If they’ve taken her. They couldn’t have gone far. There’s no way. Desperation claws at me, my lungs burning with the urge to shout her name, to demand she answer.
But I hold back.
If those bastards still have her, they must be close. I turn toward the elevator, and—
A sound.
A faint, shattered whimper.
A sniffle.
My pulse stalls.
The elevator doors are open, but from this angle, I can’t see anyone inside. I exhale slowly, tucking her necklace into my pocket, my gun raised, my body coiled. I creep forward towards the lift. I turn swiftly inside and she screams.
The gun slips from her hand, clattering to the floor, but she doesn’t move to retrieve it.
She’s curled up in the corner of the elevator, knees to her chest, hands raised in surrender.
