Breeding Justice

5. Chapter Five Hassan

Chapter Five: Hassan

S o it was settled.

We were heading to NYC…and abandoning Justice, Bash and Skylar in Miami for the time being. Running was what Justice wanted me to do. She wanted me to keep Sebastian safe. I had to do what she told me, because keeping a two-year-old safe was absolutely my top priority, but nothing about this made me feel good.

I could tell it didn’t make Zane feel good either.

The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a pale glow over the room. Zane sat at the desk, hunched over a burner phone, his brows furrowed in concentration. He tapped the screen idly, his fingers drumming a rhythm I recognized as nerves. He was in pain, too, and the medicine had started to wear off. Neither of us had spoken for several minutes, the weight of Dante’s message hanging over us like a guillotine.

“This is bullshit,” I muttered, breaking the silence. I paced the room, the soles of my shoes scuffing against the worn carpet. “He knows we’re desperate, and he’s using it.”

Zane didn’t look up. “Dante doesn’t ‘use’ anything. He’s paranoid, yeah, but it’s not without reason.”

I spun to face him. “Paranoid? That’s putting it lightly. He won’t even talk to us over the phone. What does he think this is? A Cold War spy novel?”

Zane sighed. “Just be grateful he got back to us so quickly. I heard there might be an investigation, and he has every reason not to be dealing with the Knives right now.”

“There are burner phones for a reason.”

“Hey, I don’t like this either,” Zane replied. “He thinks it’s survival,” Zane said flatly, setting the phone down with a click. He leaned back, his hazel eyes finally meeting mine. “And he’s right. Vito probably has every line tapped between here and Timbuktu. Dante’s insistence on face-to-face isn’t about making things harder—it’s about not dying.”

I gritted my teeth, a surge of frustration and helplessness washing over me. Every move felt like a gamble, and the stakes were lives—Justice’s life, Bash’s, Skylar’s. I couldn’t stop picturing Justice’s expression the last time I saw her, the way she told me to run. But how could I just leave her there?

I let out a frustrated sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. He wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t make it any easier to stomach. “So, what? We just pack up Sebastian and hop on a plane to New York?”

“That’s exactly what we do,” Zane said, his tone steady. “It’s the fastest way to get there, and speed is the only advantage we have.”

“And if Vito’s men are waiting at the airport?” I challenged. “If Dante decides this isn’t worth the risk and leaves us out to dry?”

Zane’s expression hardened. “Then we deal with it. But right now, we have no choice.”

I turned away, my fists clenching at my sides. Every instinct screamed at me to keep Sebastian safe, to stay hidden and wait for a better option. But there wasn’t a better option. Not when Justice, Bash, and Skylar were running out of time.

Zane’s voice softened. “We’ll take every precaution. Fake names, cash payments, no digital trails. If Dante’s worried about security, we should be too.”

“And Sebastian?” I asked, my voice tight. “How do we keep him safe when we’re dragging him through airports and onto planes, right under Vito’s nose?”

“We do what we always do,” Zane said, his tone unflinching. “We protect him.”

I crossed the room to where I’d put the baby monitor. On the screen, Sebastian lay in his toddler bed, his tiny chest rising and falling in the soft glow of the nightlight. The thought of exposing him to any more danger made my stomach twist, but leaving him behind wasn’t an option. Not now. Not ever.

“We leave in the morning,” I said quietly, my gaze never leaving Sebastian. “First flight out. No delays.”

Zane nodded, already reaching for the map spread out on the desk. “Don’t worry. I know exactly what we’ll do. We’ll keep our heads down.”

“And Dante?” I asked, turning back to him. “What if this is a trap? What if he’s playing both sides?”

Zane hesitated, just for a moment, before shaking his head. “Dante doesn’t play. He calculates. And if he thinks helping us hurts Vito more than it helps him, he’ll do it.”

“And if he doesn’t?” I pressed.

“Then we improvise,” Zane said simply. “But we don’t get the chance to find out unless we show up.”

His certainty should’ve been reassuring, but it wasn’t. Not when the stakes were this high. I leaned against the wall, my arms crossed tightly over my chest. Every breath felt heavier, the weight of the decision pressing down on me like a lead blanket.

“We’re trusting a lot of people we shouldn’t,” I said finally, my voice low.

Zane smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “But what other choice do we have?”

***

The airport buzzed with early-morning activity, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glare over the tired faces of travelers. I clutched Sebastian tightly to my chest, his small body warm and reassuring against mine. He stirred but didn’t wake. Thank God for small mercies.

Zane walked beside me, his stride measured but his eyes scanning every corner of the terminal. He was still hurt. I’d asked him if he wanted a wheelchair and he’d told me to shut up.

His stride confident but careful, his gaze constantly roving. He scanned the ticket counter, the seating areas, and every face that passed. To anyone watching, he probably looked like a tired dad traveling with his family. The perfect cover.

“Cash line,” Zane muttered, nodding toward a smaller counter with a blinking sign that read, Exact Change Only. “Less traceable.”

I hesitated, glancing over my shoulder. There were two men standing near the vending machines, both in plain clothes, but something about them felt...off. They weren’t talking, weren’t buying anything—just standing there, watching.

I adjusted Sebastian on my hip and followed him. The line moved slowly, but that was fine with me. Every minute we spent blending into the crowd was a minute we weren’t standing out.

When we reached the counter, Zane handed over a stack of bills—more than I thought the tickets should cost. “Two one-way tickets to New York City,” he said, keeping his voice even.

The agent didn’t blink. She took the cash, counted it quickly, and slid two boarding passes under the glass. “You’re all set,” she said, her tone bored. “Gate 12. Boarding in twenty minutes.”

Zane nodded, picking up the passes and slipping them into his jacket. “Thanks.”

I adjusted my grip on Sebastian as we walked away, heading toward security. “You sure this is going to work?”

“It’ll work,” Zane said, his voice low. “No ID required for the kid, and we paid cash. We’re just two guys traveling with a toddler. Nobody’s going to look twice.”

“That’s optimistic,” I muttered, but I followed him toward the checkpoint anyway.

As we moved through the terminal, my eyes darted around constantly, looking for anyone who might be watching us. The two men by the vending machines had vanished, but now there was a man in a navy suit sitting near the coffee shop, his phone angled in our direction. I couldn’t tell if he was actually taking pictures, but my skin prickled anyway.

“If anyone starts looking at us closely, we’ll just make out,” he said. “We’ll make them uncomfortable enough to turn away.”

“Are you hitting on me, Zane?”

He laughed. “You wish,” he said.

The line for security snaked through the terminal, a sea of exhausted travelers fumbling with shoes and laptops. My heart hammered as we approached the metal detectors. What if someone recognized us? What if Vito’s men were already here, waiting?

Zane leaned toward me, his voice barely above a whisper. “Relax. Act like you belong. Panic gets you caught.”

I was normally good at this, but something about having Sebastian on me made it a million times harder. Easy for him to say. He wasn’t holding the most precious thing in the world in his arms. But I bit back my retort and kept moving, adjusting Sebastian’s blanket to shield his face from view.

The security process was excruciatingly slow. We emptied our pockets, removed our shoes, and placed our bags on the conveyor belt. I held my breath as Sebastian’s diaper bag went through the scanner, my mind racing through every possible scenario. What if they searched it? What if they found something suspicious? What if—

“Sir, step forward,” the TSA agent said, motioning me through the metal detector.

As I waited, I glanced back toward the main terminal. The man in the navy suit was gone, but now two uniformed officers were walking along the rows of seats, scanning the crowd. My pulse spiked. Were they looking for us, or was I just paranoid?

I walked through, holding Sebastian tightly. The machine didn’t beep. Relief flooded my chest, but I didn’t let it show. Zane followed a moment later, cool as ever, and grabbed our bags from the other side.

We moved quickly, slipping our shoes back on and grabbing our things. No one stopped us. No one stared. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that eyes were on us, just out of sight.

“You’re clear,” Zane said, his tone low but firm. “Let’s go.”

Gate 12 was packed with early-morning travelers, most of them too tired to do more than scroll their phones or stare into space. Zane chose seats near the back, away from the main crowd. I sank into one of the hard plastic chairs, shifting Sebastian in my arms.

“He’s a trooper,” Zane said, nodding toward Sebastian. “Slept through the whole thing.”

“He’s exhausted,” I said, brushing a hand over Sebastian’s soft curls. “I just hope he stays asleep on the plane.”

Zane handed me a bottle of water, his gaze scanning the terminal again. “We’ll be fine. No sign of anything unusual.”

“Yet,” I said, taking a sip of water. The tension in my chest hadn’t eased, and I doubted it would until we were in the air. Even then, I wasn’t sure I’d believe we were safe.

Behind Zane, a man in a leather jacket walked past, his eyes flicking toward us for just a second too long. My grip on the water bottle tightened, but the man kept walking, disappearing into the crowd. Was he just a random traveler, or something worse? I didn’t know. I hated not knowing.

The announcement for boarding crackled over the speakers, and the line began to form. Zane glanced at me. “You ready?”

“Do I have a choice?”

He gave a faint smile, his hazel eyes steady. “You always have a choice, Hassan. But this is the right one.”

I nodded, standing and adjusting Sebastian’s blanket. We joined the line, inching forward as the gate agents scanned boarding passes. Each step felt like a mile, my heart pounding harder with every second.

When it was our turn, Zane handed over the passes, his expression calm. The agent scanned them and nodded. “You’re good to go. Enjoy your flight.”

I exhaled slowly, gripping Sebastian tighter as we walked down the jet bridge. The hum of the plane grew louder with each step, a reminder of just how far we still had to go. But for the first time in hours, I felt a flicker of hope.

We were moving. We were one step closer to New York, to Dante, to getting our people back.

But as we settled into our seats, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone, somewhere, was watching us. And that whoever it was wouldn’t be far behind.