Under His Protection: A Dark Mafia Romance

19. The Real Escape

The night airis a cold slap to the face. The city lights a dizzying blur. I’m still pressed against the rough brick wall of the alley; my body heaves with tremors, exhaustion, and adrenaline. The smell of blood clings to my clothes.

Michelle.

We’re free. We’re alive. But the feeling is hollow, a gaping hole in my chest where my heart used to be. Michelle is gone. Murdered. And Alexander—

I fumble with the phone Katerina took from the man, the buttons cold and unfamiliar beneath my trembling fingers. Alexander, his breath shallow and ragged, coughs out Isaac’s number.

The phone rings, a jarring sound in the silence. “Isaac speaking.”

“I-It’s Ava,” I say, my voice tight. “We need extraction. Now.”

“Where are you?” Isaac asks, his voice sharp, alert.

I glance around, taking in the maze of alleyways and graffiti-covered walls. “I don’t—I don’t know,” I stammer. “Somewhere near the docks. Warehouses. There’s a—- a rusty metal door with yellow graffiti on it.”

“Stay put,” Isaac says. “I’ll find you.”

“Isaac, we need a big car,” I add.

I can’t fall apart. Not now. Not when Alexander needs me. The girls need me.

“I know where it is. Be there soon,” Isaac says, his voice clipped. He hangs up, leaving me staring at the phone; the screen looks dark and broken, like my insides.

My body is still shaking, and the gun is a cold weight in my hand.

The other girls huddle together near the mouth of the alley, their faces pale in the dim streetlights, their bodies trembling like startled animals. Elena, her dark braids framing her tear-stained face, clings to Zara, her fingers digging into her pale skin. Anya, Maya, Nadia—their names—face a blur of fear and a flicker of defiant spirit.

They’re safe for now.We got out. But the feeling is empty, tainted by the blood that stains my hands, my clothes, my soul.

Katerina stands watch near the alley entrance, her gun trained on the warehouse door. Her expression is a mask of indifference; her blue eyes are scanning the shadows, but I see a muscle twitch in her jaw, a flicker of something that might be—-anxiety. Or is it anticipation? What is she thinking? What is she planning? I don’t trust her, but right now, she’s all we’ve got.

Blood seeps through the shirt on Alexander’s chest, staining the fabric a sickening crimson.

“Ava,” he whispers.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” I say, my voice sharp.

He shakes his head, his gaze meeting mine. “I’ll be fine. You—-you saved us, Ava. You saved all of us.”

“Don’t,” I say, my voice breaking. “Don’t talk like that. We’re not—we’re not out of this yet. And we lost Michelle—” The words catch in my throat. The pain is like a fresh wound, open, pulsating, and stinging.

I glance at the warehouse door, imagining Cole’s rage, a simmering inferno plotting his revenge. I shot him, but he might not be dead.

“Where do we go?” I say.

“I have a safe house,” Alexander says, his voice strained. “For emergencies. Isaac knows where it is. Take them there— the women.”

After what seems like forever, Isaac pulls up to the mouth of the alley, his black SUV a sleek shadow in the dim light. His gaze sweeps over us, taking in our injuries and desperation. I see concern crossing his usually impassive face. He gets out of the car, holding the back door open.

“Get in,” he says, his voice firm. “We need to move.”

I help Alexander into the car, his body heavy against mine. The metallic scent of blood fills my nostrils.

I’ll never forgive the Raven.

The other girls pile in behind us, their faces pale and drawn in the dim light of the car’s interior. Katerina slides into the front seat beside Isaac, her gaze fixed on the road ahead, her gun still clutched in her hand. She is a storm cloud, a dark force.

“Harvey,” I say, fumbling for the phone Isaac is handing me. I need to call Harvey.” He’s the only one I can trust, the only one who can help us now.

I dial his number, and the familiar ring is a lifeline.

“Ava?” Harvey’s voice, gruff, answers on the third ring. “Where are you? Are you alright?”

“Alexander—-he’s been shot. We need a hospital. A safe hospital.”

“St. Jude’s,” Harvey says, his voice sharp. “It’s secure. Get there as fast as you can. I’ll meet you there.”

“Thank you, Harvey,” I whisper.

I hang up the phone. We might be wounded or hunted, but we are alive. And we have each other.

But the memory of Michelle’s lifeless eyes haunts me like a phantom limb. It’s a knife twisted in my gut, a pain that will scar me, a burn that will never fade. And I can’t even imagine what Alexander must carry now.