Captured Heart

15. Katelyn

I t’s almost midnight. The day went by so quickly, and I’ve dreaded every second leading up to this moment. Victor came to see me again this afternoon, and he didn’t mince words when he explained what he would do to me and my father if he didn’t get his files by tomorrow. The deadline is looming. The seconds are rapidly ticking by. This needs to get done tonight.

I kneel on the cold, cracked tiles on the bathroom floor, the small packets of creamer and sugar spread out in front of me. My hands are shaking as I work, tearing them open and pouring the contents into a small bowl I found in the corner of the bathroom. Alex watches me curiously from the door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed.

“I know it’s a smoke bomb,” he says. “But explain to me how it works because I’m looking at what you’re putting in, and I’m doubting...the result.”

“That’s the beauty of reactions.” I stir the powder together with my fingers. “The sugar and creamer are both combustible. When they’re heated, the sugar decomposes and releases carbon, and the powdered creamer contains flammable oils. Together, they’ll oxidize rapidly.”

“So, when you light it—”

“It’ll create enough smoke to set off the fire alarms and give me cover to sneak out,” I finish for him. I sprinkle in a little more sugar, making sure the ratio is correct. “The key is to heat it quickly. Once it ignites, the reaction will be almost instant.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I’m a nerd, remember? We covered these kinds of reactions during combustion chemistry and learned how certain compounds react when exposed to heat. It’s pretty straightforward once you understand the basics.”

“I thought you were just book-smart, but this is some next-level MacGyver stuff. How did your ex ever think you were boring?”

“He didn’t know about any of my hidden talents,” I reply with a shrug. “He also didn’t know about my moonlighting gig as Katelyn, the Droll Troll.”

His face scrunches in the cutest way. “I don’t think anyone wants to know that about you. It’s something you should keep a secret. Stick to chemistry. You’re way better at that. So good that I’m starting to wonder what it would’ve been like if you were on my team during a heist. You would’ve been my greatest asset. Do you know the kind of shit we could’ve pulled off together?”

I giggle, loving that hint of excitement I hear in his voice. “You think I could’ve been the Bonnie to your Clyde?”

“Absolutely. The two of you are cut from the same cloth. I’m sure Bonnie also wore sensible cardigans and color-coded her spreadsheets.”

“Well, actually with the bootcamp-like obstacle course you’re sending me through today, I don’t think I really align with Bonnie.”

He sees the buildup and knows it’s coming because giggles are already sputtering out of me. “Don’t do it, Katie.”

“And when you throw in my mindful carb intake...”

“Now is not the time nor the place.”

“...I think the name that suits me better is...low GI...Jane.”

With a groan, he shuts his eyes and presses his fingers against his forehead as if he’s trying to stop his brain from glitching. “Please....for the love of all that is holy... please don’t do that again.”

I crack up. His lack of reaction gets me every time, and I’m so glad I got to see it tonight. It’s probably the last time I’m ever going to see it.

“Stick to smoke bombs,” he continues. “It’s an area you’re at least competent in.”

“Well, let’s hope you’re right.” I try to keep my tone light as I sprinkle in more sugar, but as everything comes together, the pressure is starting to get to me. “But save your applause for when this actually works.”

I look at my concoction and a heavy weight settles on my shoulders, replacing the playfulness and humor that was just in this room a moment ago. Everything is riding on this smoke bomb actually working. What if something goes wrong? What if I don’t make it out?

I turn to Alex, clenching my hands to stop them from trembling. “I’m...I’m a little scared.”

He notices the change in my mood immediately and crouches down beside me. “You’re going to be fine,” he assures me, and I allow his steadiness to calm me. He cups my face, and I turn into his touch, loving the warmth on my cheek. “What did I say earlier? We’re both meticulous, and we’ve planned this down to the last detail. We won’t fail.”

I stare up at him, the knot in my stomach tightening. “What if I get caught? What if—”

“You’re not going to get caught,” he says, cutting me off with firmness. “But if you do, we’ll give Victor the files. That’s our last resort.”

I swallow hard, trying to steady my breathing. The weight of what’s about to happen presses down on me, making it almost impossible to think straight. “Tomorrow is day three. If I don’t get out tonight, my dad—”

“You will.”

I nod, but my throat still feels tight. “Please come with me, Alex. If you stay—”

He exhales slowly, his eyes dropping to the floor. “It’s too risky to double-cross Victor. If he finds out about us...” He stops, reconsidering the idea before he shakes his head. “I can’t leave. If he finds out, he’ll hurt you to get back at me.”

“I don’t care. I just—”

“I care! Katie, if something happens to you—” He shuts his eyes, rejecting the thought entirely. “You need to focus on getting out of here. Don’t worry about me.”

“I can’t just leave you here. When the cops get here, you’ll get arrested with the rest of them.” My mind races through a thousand different outcomes. “What if you just leave? When you wake up, and they tell you I’m gone, tell Victor you’re out. Tell him it’s too risky now that I’ve escaped and just leave.”

“It doesn’t work like that. You don’t just walk away from Victor. Not unless you want a bullet in your back. If I leave the second you’re gone, he’ll know. It’s an admission of guilt. He’ll connect the dots, and he won’t stop until he finds us both.”

The lump in my throat makes it impossible to respond. The pain is almost unbearable. “So, this is it? I’m never going to see you again?”

His jaw tightens, and he doesn’t answer right away. “It has to be that way. You need to move on and forget about me. I’m no good, anyway. When you leave here, never look back.”

I shake my head, choosing to say nothing because I can’t make that promise. I can’t just walk away from this, from him, from us . Asking me to forget about him is asking for the impossible. Instead, I redirect my focus back to the plan.

My hands tremble as I stand up and grab a pillowcase I’d left on top of the toilet. I rip it in two and soak one with water. After squeezing off the excess, I sift through the cabinets for items I remember seeing in there. Acetone and bleach. I grab the bottles, working quickly to plug the sink, and then I carefully pour in the required amount of each.

Step one, I tell myself, trying to drown out the panic clawing at my insides. The sharp smell of acetone hits the back of my throat as I take the other half of the pillowcase and soak it in the liquid.

“Okay, so this is the part you’re not going to like,” I say, holding up the soaked cloth.

I take both halves of the pillowcase out with me as we move back to the room.

“Are you sure I’m not going to die?” he teases.

“I’m...ninety percent sure it’ll be safe.”

He chuckles softly. “The hesitance in your voice puts me so at ease.”

I ignore the playful jab because I don’t want to get distracted. “Sit near the door. It needs to look like you fell asleep, and I snuck up on you.”

He sits down, but still protests like I knew he would. “Why can’t I just pretend like I accidentally left the door unlocked?”

I let out an annoyed humph. We’ve already been through this a hundred times, and he knows this is the most plausible option.

“Victor shot at a mere boy for his incompetence. What do you think he’d do to you if he finds out you accidentally left the door unlocked?”

He doesn’t answer because he knows how dangerous that suggestion is. Instead, he flips tactics. “But I don’t have to be unconscious. I could fake it.”

I shake my head, clutching the dampened cloth in my hands. “You wouldn’t be able to pull it off.”

“I could try.”

“Alex, the second the smoke hits your lungs, you’ll cough. It’s instinct. Even if you try to hold it back, your body will betray you. The other men will see right through it.” My voice wavers, but I force myself to sound confident. “This has to be convincing. If you’re out cold, there’s no way they’ll think you were part of this.”

“But if something happens to you...” Worried hands rake over his head, then down his face. “Fuck, I can’t just be lying here.”

The panic in his voice tugs on my heartstrings, but I don’t let that deter me. We’ve been through the plan. This is how it has to be, but God, leaving him here is killing me.

Alex’s hands cup my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks with a tenderness that wraps around my heart and squeezes it tight. His stormy gray eyes search mine, as if he’s trying to imprint every detail into his memory. I feel the same desperate pull, like I’m holding on to something I’m about to lose forever.

“Katie...” He says my name like a prayer, like it’s sacred.

I treat it like a calling. He’s beckoning to me, and I respond. I straddle him, my knees on either side of his hips. His hands slide down to my waist, gripping me tightly, like he’s afraid to let go. His touch is warm and firm, the only thing grounding me in this moment.

I lean forward, and he slams his lips on mine as if he couldn’t wait for me to close the distance. He captures my lips in a kiss that feels like a final goodbye. It’s not just a kiss. It’s everything we’ll never say, everything we’ll never have. It’s the future we could’ve had if things were different, if fate hadn’t conspired against us to keep us apart.

His lips move against mine with a fierce urgency, his hands roaming up my back, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us. I cling to him with the same aching desperation. His kiss is hot and hungry, but beneath the passion, there’s a quiet sorrow that pushes me to the verge of tears.

I want to remember everything. The way his breath hitches when I press closer. The faint scratch of stubble against my skin. The way his hands tremble ever so slightly as he holds me. Scorching heat envelops us, and I want the burn. I crave it. I want it to take this moment and bore it into my brain because I never want to forget what it feels like to be in his arms.

When we finally pull apart, I rest my forehead against his, enjoying the warmth of his skin and the strength of his arms one last time. His eyes are glassy, his guard slipping for just a moment, and in that moment, I see everything he’s too afraid to say.

“I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to you.”

I place a hand on his cheek, my thumb brushing over his rough jawline. “You have to let me do this. You have to trust me.”

His hand covers mine, pressing it harder against his face. “I do trust you, but if—”

I press my finger against his lips to silence his escalating worry. “We’ve been through this. This is the only way.”

He exhales shakily, his hands still locked on my waist as if he’s physically incapable of letting me go. “Be safe, Rebel.”

“You, too.”

I press one last kiss to his lips, slow and lingering, savoring this very last moment. Then, with every ounce of strength I have left, I pull away and shift back slightly, looking down before I lose my nerve. The loss is immediate, like a piece of me has been torn away.

I grip the cloth tightly, doubts beginning to creep in. I can’t believe I’m going to do this. This homemade chloroform could be dangerous if I didn’t mix it right...

No. I shake off the negative thoughts nagging me. I just told him to trust me. Now I need to trust myself. I know what I’m doing. The plan will work.

I glance up at him one last time. He’s watching me, his expression raw and unguarded, and it nearly undoes me.

“Ready?” I give a slight smile to hide my nervousness.

He nods, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Do it.”

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to remain steady. Then, with shaking hands, I press the cloth over his nose and mouth. I gasp when I see the effect it has on him, my heart shattering as I feel his body go limp beneath me. His head drops to the side as he loses consciousness.

It takes all my strength to shift his heavy body. I lay him gently on the floor, tilting his head to the side and positioning him so his airway stays open. He looks peaceful, like he’s just sleeping, but the sight of him so still sends a pang of guilt and fear through me.

Grabbing the pillowcase I’d soaked in water; I rip it in half. I gently drape it over his mouth and nose to act as a filter. The moisture in the cloth will help trap smoke particles and reduce what he inhales. I keep the other half for myself to help me escape.

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I force myself to focus on the rest of the plan.

Step two.

I run back to the bathroom and grab the bowl of sugar and creamer. Moving to the bedside table, I get the box of matches near the oil lamp and return to the door. The sound of my shallow breaths fills the room as I start mixing the ingredients together.

My hands are shaking so badly that the mixture clumps at first, and I have to stir harder to get it right.

I set the bowl down a distance away from Alex to keep him safe from the fumes and strike the match. My pulse races as the flames flare to life. Within seconds, smoke billows into the air, thick and suffocating.

The fire alarm blares, a piercing sound that sets my nerves on edge.

I place the wet pillowcase over my mouth and nose, ducking into the hallway. The acrid smoke burns my lungs and eyes, but I force myself to keep moving. Alex mapped out my escape route in detail. All I have to do is follow his directions.

“Go down the hall and turn left. Hide in the supply closet.” His voice plays in my head, steady and calm. “When the alarms go off and they rush to the room, sneak out through the kitchen door. It’s the closest exit to the fence.”

My breath catches as I hear voices approaching.

“Check the girl!” one of them shouts.

I dart into the supply closet, the door creaking softly as I pull it shut behind me. My heart thunders as I hear heavy footsteps pass by, and I wait, counting the seconds in my head.

As soon as the hallway clears, I slip out of the closet and crouch down to stay below beneath the thickest layer of smoke.

“Fuck!” I hear Bowman’s voice over the chaos. “Turner’s down. Rookie, help me get him outta here.” I hear huffing and coughing. “Smith, do you see her?”

“No! I can’t see anything.”

“Go get the van.”

Shit! I need to move.

“There are only five men here, excluding the guard outside. They’ll leave two here. One to get me to safety, and the other to keep looking for you. The other three are going to go after you. You have to be quick, and you have to stay calm.”

My knees swiftly brush the ground as I move to the kitchen. Trying not to cough, I open the door as quietly as I can, creep outside, and close it behind me.

The night air hits me like a slap when I step outside, cool and sharp against my overheated skin. I gasp, sucking in sharp breaths, trying to give my deprived lungs as much oxygen as possible.

I assess my new surroundings. The fence is not that far away, just a few yards, but anxiety makes me feel like I’ll have to run miles to get to it. I see the camera swiveling slowly.

“Wait for the camera to rotate,” Alex’s voice reminds me. “When it’s facing the white building to the right, you have forty-five seconds to get to the fence. The guard sits at the delivery entrance. If you time the cameras right, he won’t see you until it’s too late. You’ll be over before he reaches you.”

I crouch, my muscles coiled and ready for action as I watch the camera. The second it’s fully turned, I sprint, my bare feet pounding against the gravel, small stones cutting into my soles. The camera’s already turning back, and I’m only halfway there. I grit my teeth, willing myself to go faster. My legs and lungs are on fire, but I’m almost there.

“Hey!” a guard shouts, his voice cutting through the night. “Stop!”

I don’t look back. Adrenaline surges through me. I leap onto the fence, the metal cold and biting against my palms. I pull myself up and over, but my foot slips on the way down, sending me crashing to the ground. Pain shoots up my arm, but I push myself to my feet and keep running.

“Two blocks down, next to a gray and white Murkox building, you’ll see an alley to your right. It’s dark, but it’ll give you cover. I left a bag there for you behind the dumpster. It has everything you need.”

The streets are eerily silent as I race toward the red Murkox sign I can see in the distance. My breaths are expelled in ragged gasps. My heart pounds rapidly, echoing in my ears as I reach the building. I turn into the darkness, slowing to catch my breath. I swallow hard, trying to moisten my throat. It’s as dry as sandpaper. Using my palm, I apply pressure to my ribs to ease the cramps stabbing my side.

I move deeper into the alley. The stench hits me first, a pungent mix of rotting garbage, sour milk, and something metallic, like rust or old blood. The faint, distant sound of scurrying mice makes my skin crawl, and I swear I hear the flutter of wings. Maybe a bat...or maybe it’s just my imagination playing tricks on me.

It’s so dark. I can’t see anything. Placing my hands on the wall, I feel my way down the alley.

I wince when something sharp pierces my foot. “Shit!”

I lift my leg and pull out what feels like a shard of glass. It’s not too deep, though. I continue moving to the end of the alley until I feel the cool metal of the dumpster.

Still feeling my way, I move around it and find the backpack Alex promised. I yank it open, rummaging blindly until I feel a flashlight. I use it to help me dress, pulling on the sweatpants and a pair of sneakers. Alex said it was Morty’s. They’re a little big, but they’ll do. The rough fabric scratches against my skin as I tug the drawstrings tighter, but I don’t have time to care.

The sudden screech of tires cuts through the silence. My pulse quickens. I switch off the flashlight and press my back against the cold, damp wall of the alley, listening intently.

A car door slams. Voices drift through the air, sharp and urgent.

“She couldn’t have gotten far!” one of them yells. Sounds like Smith. “She’s on foot.”

“Check the alleys,” Bowman orders. “Check every parking lot, every vacant building. Check everywhere. We’ll keep circling in the van. Go. Now!”

Panic seizes me as I hear the engine rev, and the tires peel away. I see the flickering of headlights as they pass the entrance of the alley, illuminating the trash and grime for just a moment. My eyes dart around, searching for cover, and the only thing I see is the dumpster in front of me.

My nose wrinkles at the thought, but there’s no other option. I lift the lid, gagging as the overwhelming stench of decaying food and stale liquids wafts out. I hold my breath, hoist myself up, and drop inside. My knees sink into something soft and wet, and I try not to think about what it might be.

The lid closes above me, sealing me in darkness. The air is suffocating, thick with the smell of rot and mildew. I press the sleeve of Alex’s hoodie over my nose and mouth, trying to filter out the worst of it.

Footsteps echo near the entrance of the alley. I freeze, biting my lip so I don’t make a sound. My breaths are shallow, barely there, as I strain to hear over my rapidly pounding heartbeat. Something furry scurries over my hand, and it takes everything in me to keep the scream trapped in my throat. The faint beam of a flashlight flickers through the small cracks in the dumpster, casting eerie streaks of light.

The footsteps draw closer, crunching over broken glass and scattered debris. My stomach knots as I imagine Smith yanking the lid open, his face twisted in triumph as he drags me out. But then, the steps stop.

A voice grumbles, irritated. “Fuck!”

A strange calmness washes over me as the footsteps retreat, growing fainter with each passing second. My muscles ache from staying so still, but I don’t dare move. Not yet.

I count to sixty. Once. Twice. When the only sounds are the distant hum of the city and the occasional bark of a dog, I lift the lid just a crack. The alley is empty.

Cautiously, I climb out of the dumpster, the sour stench of rotting food clinging to me like a second skin. I suppress a gag as I pull a slimy banana peel from my hair, its sticky residue clinging stubbornly to the strands.

“Ugh! Gross.”

I toss it away before wiping my hands on the sweatpants. I switch the flashlight on again and then I see it.

The wall. A towering, solid concrete barrier at least ten feet high. My stomach sinks. Alex said it wasn’t too high, but I don’t think he thought about the fact that I’m a good few inches shorter than him. And not nearly as strong.

There are no footholds, no ladders, nothing to help me scale it. The streetlight casts faint shadows along its surface, and the sound of a distant car spurs me into action.

I step closer, running my hands over the rough surface, hoping to find some imperfection, something to grab onto. It’s smooth and cold, offering no mercy.

“Come on, Kate. Think.”

I flick the flashlight around the alley, looking for anything useful. There’s an old pallet leaning against the dumpster. It’s warped and splintered, but it’ll have to do. Holding the flashlight between my teeth, I drag it over to the base of the wall, the rough wood scraping against the ground.

With every ounce of strength I have left, I position the pallet against the wall. I toss the flashlight into the backpack, then pull the straps onto my shoulders, tightening them before I step onto the pallet. It creaks under my weight, unstable and threatening to collapse.

I reach up, my fingers brushing the top of the wall. My arms ache as I dig my nails into the edge, trying to pull myself up. My feet scrabble against the concrete, slipping on the smooth surface. All those hours in the gym prove to be useless because getting up this thing is a nightmare.

“Come on.” My muscles scream in protest, but I push past the agony. “You can do this.”

I take a deep breath, planting my feet firmly on the pallet and jumping as high as I can. My fingers grip the top edge, but the rough concrete scrapes against my skin, threatening to tear my grip away.

“Shit! Don’t let go. Don’t. Let. Go.”

I kick against the wall, using the momentum to haul myself up. My arms tremble, burning with exertion, but I manage to get my chest over the edge. I press my stomach to the top, twisting my body to swing one leg over.

It doesn’t work, though. My foot slips, and for a heart-stopping moment, I dangle precariously, the ground spinning below me. I dig my nails into the concrete, the pain sharp but grounding. With one final push, I heave my semi-lame body over and lower myself feet first. My weak fingers give out, and I lose my grip, collapsing onto the other side in a heap.

The impact knocks the wind out of me, but after taking in a few breaths, I manage to roll to my feet. My palms sting, raw and scraped from the climb, but I’m becoming accustomed to every part of me being in pain. My heart thunders as I scan the street, looking for the black van, any sign of Victor’s men.

There’s nothing.

I still feel so exposed, though. I wish I had some kind of disguise, but the hoodie is all I have to hide my face. Pulling it over my head, I tighten and knot the drawstrings to secure it. I take off, turning into the first street like Alex said.

“Look for the blue sedan on Maple Street. I chose that one because it’s the easiest to get into.”

“You want me to steal a car?”

“You’re borrowing it. You’ll give it right back. Besides, it’s the best cover. You could drive right past them, and they wouldn’t know because they’re not looking for a car.”

The blue sedan is right where Alex said it would be. I open the bag and find the small flashlight, a screwdriver, and a slim jim.

“Slide the slim jim between the window and the door. Feel for the lock rod and pull it up.”

My hands shake as I follow his instructions, sweat dripping down my temple. My eyes bounce around every two seconds, searching for the danger I know is so close by. I’m fearful of every sound, every rustle in the bushes behind me. The lock finally pops, and I climb inside.

“Push the seat back and keep the door closed while you hotwire it. You have to be as inconspicuous as possible.”

I hold the flashlight in my mouth, the beam wobbling with each shaky breath. Alex's voice echoes in my head, calm and instructive. Strip the wires without cutting them and then connect the right ones. Don’t panic.

My fingers tremble as I peel back the rubber casing on the wires, exposing the shiny copper beneath.

There are three wires: red, yellow, and black. I work carefully, just like Alex said. Use the edge of the screwdriver to scrape away the insulation without severing the wires entirely. The red and yellow ones are for the ignition; the black is the ground.

Sweat beads on my forehead and drips into my eyes, stinging and blurring my vision, but I don’t stop. I twist the exposed ends of the red and yellow wires together, my breath hitching when I see a faint spark. It’s working. At least, I hope it is.

I glance over my shoulder, my heart racing at every shadow, every small sound outside the car. My fingers fumble, but I manage to touch the twisted red and yellow wires to the black one, just like Alex said.

Nothing.

“Come on,” I whisper-shout with frustration, my voice muffled by the flashlight clenched between my teeth. “Come. On.” I try again, twisting the wires tighter this time and holding them together with a little more pressure.

Still nothing.

Panic claws at my chest, and my hands start to sweat, making the wires slippery in my grasp. Focus. Steady. One more try.

I strip the wires a little further, ensuring the copper is fully exposed. Taking a deep breath, I connect them again, pressing harder this time.

The engine roars to life, so loud and sudden it startles me. Relief floods through me. I let out a small cry of victory and quickly muffle it with my hand. I’m so close to crying, but I use every mechanism I can to keep it together. My whole body sags against the seat for a brief moment before the urgency of the situation snaps me back into action.

“Okay, you got this.”

I drop the flashlight onto the passenger seat, push the wires aside, and shift the car into reverse, backing out of the driveway as quietly as the ancient car will allow. The adrenaline coursing through me is the only thing keeping me from breaking down.

“Once I get it started, I’ll go to my parents’ house,” I’d said. “They’re in Oakland. It’s not too far from here, and my dad will know what to do.”

“No. It’s too risky. Victor may already have men there waiting for you. You need to get to Richmond and go straight to the police station there. Ask for Detective Collins. He was the guy who put me away. He wants nothing more than to take down Victor and his empire. Trust no one else because you don’t know who Vic has on his payroll.”

I follow the directions Alex gave me and manoeuvre through the area to the highway. My eyes keep flicking to the review mirror, but nobody comes because they’re all looking for a woman running on foot.

I laugh, tears spilling from my eyes. “We did it, Alex.”

The streetlights in the station parking lot buzz faintly as I pull in, the old car sputtering to a stop. My hands are gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles ache. It’s only now, in the relative safety of this space, that the gravity of what I’ve done crashes down on me. For a moment, it feels like my lungs collapse, and I can’t seem to move.

Keep it together, Kate. You’re not safe yet.

I force myself out of the car. The night air is chilly against my sweat-drenched skin. My legs wobble as I make my way to the station’s entrance. The glass doors slide open with a mechanical hiss, revealing a sterile, brightly lit lobby that smells faintly of coffee and disinfectant.

The officer behind the desk glances up at me, his bored expression shifting to mild concern when he sees my state. My hair’s a mess, my clothes are rumpled, and I’m sure my face is still pale from the adrenaline and fear coursing through me.

“I need to see Detective Collins,” I say, sounding as shaky as I feel.

“He’s not in,” the officer replies slightly dismissively. “He won’t be here until seven a.m.”

I grit my teeth, trying to be patient. “Get him on the phone. Tell him Katelyn Akiyama needs to speak to him. It’s urgent. My father’s life is at risk, and if you don’t get him here, it might be too late.”

“I can help. What do you need?”

“First, I need you to send cops to my parents’ house.” I reach over the desk to grab a notepad and snatch the pen from his hand. “Here’s the address.” I scribble it down and hand it back to him. “As many as you can because I don’t know how many men he’ll send there.”

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter who! I’ll tell Detective Collins everything when he gets here.” My tone is scathing, and I know he’s just trying to help, but I’m too worn down to be nice. “Now get him on the phone. I’ll only speak to him.”

The officer looks like he’s about to argue, but something in my expression must convince him otherwise. With a reluctant nod, he picks up the phone and dials.

I pace the lobby as he speaks quietly into the receiver, my heart hammering in my chest. The minutes stretch endlessly, and the ticking clock on the wall ensures I hear every second that passes by. Finally, he hangs up.

“He’ll be here in fifteen minutes,” the officer says. “And we’ve sent some officers out.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, sinking into one of the stiff plastic chairs.

The wait is agonizing. My worry for my parents and Alex escalates rapidly. Paranoia is getting the better of me. I keep thinking that the officer at the desk is one of Victor’s guys, and he called them to come get me. I keep expecting someone to walk through those doors and pounce on me.

My mind is racing with all the ways things could go wrong, but then it moves to the possibility that it could go right. What if everything turns out exactly the way we planned? What then?

I already know the answer. He told me.

“And then that’s it?” I’d asked Alex.

“That’s it. Don’t seek me out. Don’t ask about me. If we’re ever in the same room together, don’t even look in my direction. Victor has eyes and ears everywhere, so no one can ever find out about us.”

I try to drown out those words because they’re too painful to bear. Every sound is amplified in my head, the shuffle of papers, the faint hum of the vending machine. It’s grating against my frayed nerves, but I’d much rather listen to that than replay our conversation.

I hug my arms around myself, trying to stop the tremors racking my body. When the doors finally hiss open again, Detective Collins strides in, his expression grim. He looks disheveled, his jacket hastily thrown over a plain T-shirt, as if he put on the first thing he could find.

His eyes lock onto mine immediately. “Katelyn?”

I nod.

“Your parents are safe. We’ve sent officers to bring them here. They’ll be with you soon.”

“Oh, thank God.” For the first time tonight, I feel the tension ease and my shoulders relax. “Thank you, Detective.”

He gestures for me to follow him, leading me into a cramped office filled with files and papers. He closes the door behind us and walks to his desk. “Now,” he says, sitting down, “what was so urgent that you couldn’t wait ‘til morning?”

I reach behind me and slowly unclasp my locket. My throat tightens as I hold it out to him. “I think this has what you need to put Victor Salazar away for life.”