Page 12 of Where Broken Wings Fly

Locating an available taxi is surprisingly easy, but my anxiety doesn’t abate. There are too many people. Too many faces. I can’t keep us safe out here in the open.

Mr Sanchez could have his well-paid thugs looking for us at this very moment, even if he’s thousands of miles away on the other side of the world. He’s still in my head.

Bundled in the back of a sleek, red taxi, I fasten Arianna’s seatbelt and catch the lingering, concerned look the driver gives us both. I’m barely standing on my own feet.

My head pounds steadily with pain as the adrenaline that’s kept us going finally begins wearing off. My skin burns with a growing fever, but I can’t rest yet. Not until we’re safe.

“Where will it be to?” he asks.

“You know any cheap hotels around here?”

The driver studies me with soft eyes, radiating sympathy. “How cheap are we talking?”

“Nothing fancy. I just need somewhere to rest my head for a few hours. We’re heading northwest in the morning.”

“Got far to go?”

“A few hundred miles, I think. I’m looking for somewhere called Briar Valley.”

He throws the car into gear and pulls away from the bustling airport. “You’re far from home. Are you sure that’s where you want to go?”

“Why? You’ve heard of it?” I ask in a rush of panic.

“Nah. But no offence, you look like you’re in need of a good hospital. Or maybe the police station? I’ll take you right there, no questions asked.”

Staring at him, I catch sight of my battered, hideous face in the rearview mirror. It’s so swollen and discoloured, I look more like a lifeless hunk of meat than a person.

No wonder people were staring at me. I’m visibly dead on my feet, unrecognisable beneath bruises and violent swelling. My nose is still crooked from where I failed to set it straight with flimsy strips.

“That won’t be necessary,” I say in a low whisper.

“You sure?”

“Please take us to a hotel. I’ll figure the rest out from there.”

He shrugs, indicating to join the flow of traffic. “As you wish. Don’t die in my taxi, though.”

“I’ll try my best not to.”

Slumping in the seat with a sleeping Arianna slung across my lap, I let my gritty eyes slide shut. Just for a second. I need to gather my energy again. I’m in so much pain.

Something’s wrong with me, but I don’t have time to worry about my injuries. All that matters is getting off the radar, and far from where my husband can track us down.

Then, we can breathe again.

Perhaps even live a little.

CHAPTER 3

KILLIAN

LONELY - MACHINE GUN KELLY

Lifting the axe above my head, I bring it down on the log, splitting it perfectly down the middle. After tossing it on the growing pile, I line up my next victim, cracking it in two.

The sun beats down on my weathered, heavily tanned skin beneath a layer of blonde fuzz that covers my torso. It’s pretty warm, despite being February.

“Kill!” Zach bellows from our cabin’s wraparound porch. “Finish up. We’re heading out in ten.”

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