Page 16 of Burned in Stone
Cash:
Text me when you’re there. See you tomorrow
Tomorrow. When I’ll have to pretend everything’s fine, that I’m just being skittish about starting something with him. When really I’m terrified that my past is about to destroy everything I’ve built here. This place, these people—they’ve become home. The MC that everyone else fears has become my protection. Devil’s Bar has become my sanctuary.
I finish cleaning in record time, double-check all the locks, and head out into the cool of the early December night. I catch myself checking over my shoulder more than necessary. Paranoid maybe, but old habits die hard.
My phone buzzes again as I’m climbing the stairs to my place. Another unknown call. This time, I answer.
“Stop calling me.”
Silence for a moment, then a voice that still has the power to make my stomach drop. “Hello, Mercedes. We need to talk about the company you’re keeping.”
I hang up and barely make it to the bathroom before I throw up.
Then I sit on the bathroom floor, back against the cool tile, and let myself acknowledge the truth. I will never be free. Gabriel will never let me go. And the life I’m trying to build here—the friends, the job, the community, Cash—all of it is temporary. All of it can be taken away.
Mrs. Yu was wrong. Running away from a good man to protect him from a bad one isn’t fear.
It’s mercy.
And now it’s time to pack my bags and save them all—even if it means losing myself.
7
CASH
Ifire up the bike when Mercy asks me to leave, revving it loud enough for her to hear. The sound bounces off Devil’s Bar’s walls as I roll out of the lot.
But I only go around the corner.
I park behind the old hardware store that’s been closed for two years, killed by Summit’s big box development on the east side. The bike will be safe here, hidden in the shadows where Mercy won’t spot it when she walks past.
Living on the streets taught me how to be invisible. How to move without sound. How to watch without being seen. Skills I picked up to avoid dealers and pimps are keeping her safe tonight.
I circle back on foot, keeping to the shadows. By the time I reach Devil’s again, Mercy’s just locking the front door. She’s got her phone in one hand, keys in the other, that oversized denim jacket pulled tight around her even though December in Stoneheart isn’t that cold yet.
She starts walking, and I follow.
Half a block back. Sometimes on the opposite side of the street. Old habits kick in—use parked cars for cover, avoid the pools of streetlight, match her pace but never her rhythm.
Three blocks from the bar, her phone buzzes. She stops dead in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at the screen like it might bite her. Even from here, I can see her shoulders tense.
Another buzz. Another.
She shoves the phone in her pocket without answering and walks faster.
I speed up to keep pace. My hands itch to close the distance. To take that phone and throw it in the nearest dumpster. To wrap my arms around her until whatever’s scaring her can’t reach her anymore.
But she asked for space. So I give her the illusion of it while keeping watch.
Two more blocks and she’s checking over her shoulder every few steps. Looking for someone. But not me—I’m too good at this for her to even sense me. She’s looking for someone else.
Whoever’s been calling.
The laundromat comes into view, and Mercy practically runs up the metal stairs to her apartment. Her keys jangle as she fumbles with the lock. Her phone buzzes again.
This time she answers.
