Page 27 of Make Them Cry
ME:“I’m on it.”
ARROW:“You see the hoodie?”
ME:“Yeah.”
I run through the hallways at work like a man on a mission. Well, I am a man on a very important mission. Find this asshole before he can hurt River. I get to the parking garage and glance around.
The air smells like cold concrete and burned rubber. The echo of footsteps bounces off every surface. Hers? Theirs? I can’t tell. I take the corner too fast and nearly wipe out on a slick oil patch.
I told her to drive. To keep going.
Now I’m here to make sure that wasn’t a mistake.
I follow the sound. Quick, deliberate, just enough weight to belong to someone who thinks they’re invisible. I spot movement near the maintenance stairs—hoodie, dark jeans, gloved hands.
“Hey!” My voice cracks through the air.
The shadow freezes. For half a second, I swear they’re about to turn around. But then they bolt. Up the stairwell. I chase.
The stairwell reeks of metal and mildew, footsteps slapping out a rhythm like a countdown clock. The hooded figure bursts out onto the top floor, vaults a row of tires, then cuts left toward the pedestrian ramp.
I’m faster, angrier, closing in—until I’m not.
They slip between two parked trucks and vanish like smoke. I hit the spot a breath later. Fucking nothing. No sign. Just the stutter of my pulse in my ears and a bitter taste in my mouth.
Gone.
Arrow’s voice breaks through the static. “You lose them?”
“Yeah,” I rasp, breathing hard. “But she’s safe. She’s already on the main road.”
“Good. Because we can’t risk her staying there another night.”
“I know.”
I pull my phone out and type a single encrypted message into the burner chat we use through Mask’s system.
MASK:You need a new place. Somewhere quiet. Secure. Don’t ask questions.
RIVER:Where?
MASK:I’ll send coordinates. There’s a key code on the lockbox—1439.
RIVER:Why do I trust you?
MASK:Because you’re still alive.
I hit send before I can think too hard about the line. Because it’s true. Because it’s the only thing that matters.
Two hours later,I’m at Riverside with Arrow and Knight.
Knight’s unloading crates of nonperishables and a portable monitor setup. Arrow’s sweeping the perimeter, checking locks, sensors, and line of sight.
We move fast, efficient. We’ve done this before. Different woman. Same nightmare.
The room looks better than I expected—clean, stocked, anonymous. There’s a small table now, a lamp with warm light, a real bedroom with a bed with a cupcake blanket Juno brought. It’s still needs work, but it feels almost human. We set up the cameras, and then we head to the back room.
Our command center sits on the other side of a concrete wall from her safe house. A bank of monitors showing her space. I check the cameras again. Each one feeds into my tablet—four angles, overlapping fields of view. No blind spots. No signal leaks.
