Page 52 of Corrupted Queen

I’m very warm and very sweaty,I will then say (to myself) afterward.I’ll go take a walk outside to cool down.

From there, it’s aget in and get out without being caughtsituation.

I secure my lock-picking tools in the little zip pocket at the back of my leggings and fill my lungs with steely resolve, then I head to the gym.

I run full-tilt on the treadmill for a solid twenty minutes. It’s not necessary for my plan that I murder myself on the gym equipment, but it helps with my nerves. After that, I do ten minutes of cycling, then crush a few weights as the sweat trickles down my brow.

I know it’s time to go, but I find myself stalling. Maybe I should do a few burpees first? Some jumping jacks?

No, I can do this.

I chug some water and walk with confidence out of the gym, down the winding hall and out the back door. The guards posted there look at me quizzically.

“It’s a little late to be going for a run,” one of them says.

I smile back at them. “I’m just going for a cooldown walk.”

They clearly find my behavior strange, but they don’t stop me. My plan is far from elegant, but I feel better knowing that I have a premise for being out here, however odd it may be. I don’t pat myself on the back just yet, though. If Gabriel sees me creeping around outside in the dark, “cooldown walk” or not, he’ll be immediately suspicious.

The night air feels like heaven on my feverish skin. It cools the sweat on my brow and winds through my ponytail as I stride out toward the trees. The grass is dewy beneath my feet, and high above, a kaleidoscope of stars winks against the black curtain of the sky. It’s beautiful. I should go for nighttime walks more often.

I disappear into the edge of the tree line, casting a glance behind me. It doesn’t look like I’ve been followed.

It’s pitch-black under the thick branches, and I stumble over a few of the roots as I pick my way toward the other side of the small copse. Silence fills the space between the trees like a thick fog, and goose bumps prickle up my arms as the warm glow of my workout starts to fade away.

I come out on the other side of the trees and see the storage shed ahead of me. I peer around, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone else nearby. I dart across the clearing and crouch next to the door as I pull out the tools from the zipped pocket.

My heart tap dances on the back of my ribs as I work the tools in the lock, ears pricked for the sound of footsteps. I picture Gabriel’s shadow falling over me any second. If he found me, I’d be done for. Gabriel wouldn’t hurt me or kill me, but he could do much worse. He could take Harry away and banish me. I’d never see my son again.

I think of all the addicts growing cold in alleyways and motel rooms around the city, and of their parents, who don’t yet know that the last conversation they had with their child will be the last ever. I’m doing this for them, for all of them. I just need to make sure I don’t get caught.

The padlock clicks open and I cheer silently. With one last furtive glance over my shoulder, I slip into the storage shed and close the door behind me. There is no light inside, so I turn on the flashlight on my phone and scan the interior.

Cardboard boxes fill the whole space, neatly stacked from floor to ceiling. I go to the nearest one and gently pry it open.

Dread sinks low into my gut.

The contents reflect purple splinters of light back into the room. Finally, without a shadow of a doubt, I have evidence that Gabriel is running the distribution of purple heroin in the city. There are hundreds of small bags inside the box, like taster kits, and I expect every box in here is exactly the same. Considering a small amount of this stuff can kill a human being, there is enough purple heroin in here to kill hundreds, maybe thousands.

My stomach turns at the thought of it.

When my thoughts catch up to the machine-gun fire of my heartbeat, I realize that I have already lingered too long. I got what I need. Now I need to get out. I snap a quick photo and put the box back as I found it, killing the flashlight before retreating onto the lawn and clicking the padlock back in place.

My hair stands on end from the cold. I wrap my arms around myself and sprint back to the trees, still listening for any signs of movement from nearby. There’s nothing.

I weave through the trees, keeping a brisk pace to try to warm back up.

I can’t believe I’ve gotten away with it. My plan went off flawlessly, and now I have all the evidence I could possibly need to bring Gabriel down. Because that’s what I’m going to do, right? I’m not going to be some passive Mafia mistress who stands by while innocent people get hurt. I have a mind of my own, but more importantly, I have a voice—and it’s my duty to use it.

But the thought of betraying Gabriel … It sticks against my ribs like cold oatmeal. If I expose him in my article, it will ruin him. Harry will grow up hating his own father. He will never remember all the times Gabriel rocked him back to sleep after a nightmare or played the plane game with him for hours or made him a bubble beard in the bath. He will only remember the ugliness.

And me … I know I shouldn’t be thinking about me, but I can’t help but grieve my own loss of Gabriel. I have always wondered what this feeling is—if it’s love or lust or just good old-fashioned Stockholm Syndrome, but either way there’s a little corner of my heart that belongs solely to Gabriel Belluci. I deny it all the time, but in the wake of what I am about to do it seems like a good time to be honest with myself. I care about Gabriel. I might even love him. Even after everything he has done, everything he could still do, Gabriel means something to me, and I am going to have to confront those feelings one way or another.

I am so stuck in my thoughts that I trip over a root and go sprawling into the dirt. I catch myself with my hands and groan. This is just what I needed. I haul myself back up, muttering curses under my breath, and try to brush as much of the dirt off me as possible, before continuing forward a little more carefully.

I come out of the trees and cross the lawn, arriving at the back door with a friendly smile.

“That was just what the doctor ordered,” I tell the two guards, who eye me suspiciously but don’t say anything as I pass back into the house.

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