Chapter 4 #2
A heavy metal song blares at full volume. He usually lets it play all night until morning while the employees party with him.
Dick is as large as I am—tall and fit. I can feel his presence lingering behind me.
I take a step forward and spin to face him as we move closer to the desk in the center. Dick reaches to grab the envelope on top with Mom’s name written across it.
While he smokes his cigarette like a gangster who owns the world, I focus on the golden lighter with an embossed moth in the corner of his desk. It catches my attention for some reason. A sense of déjà vu washes over me, yet I can’t quite put my finger on it.
I grab it, pulling my eyebrows together as I rack my brain for an answer.
I’ve seen it before.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Dick comments, shifting closer.
As I peer up, his predatory gleam is just an inch away from me.
“I got it as a gift a while back.”
A sharp pain slices through my chest as a cigarette burns a hole in my skin. A scream rips from my throat, but it dies when he presses his hand to my mouth to silence me.
Dick laughs, the cruel sound blends with the screams from the speakers, making my heart thunder like it’s trying to escape, knowing what’s coming next.
“I own this place and everything in it.”
He always waited. Lurked. Planted himself in my life for this very moment. Not because he was generous and kind, but because he always wanted something in return. He wanted me. Now, it’s time to take action.
I sear his cheek with the flame, and he shoves my arm away, but I bring the lighter to his earlobe next.
“Don’t touch me!” I yell, and he growls at the second burn before tackling me. The fall knocks the air from my lungs.
Flat on the floor, Dick knocks the lighter from my grasp and punches me in the face a couple of times. It happens so quickly that I only realize what is going on when he climbs on top of me, pinning my wrists over my head with one hand.
“You like it rough, boy, don’t you?” He bites his lip, and I thrash beneath his tenacious grip. He is much stronger than I gave him credit for.
Pinned down, I try to yank my arms, but he doesn’t budge. He stares at me with wild eyes, running an affectionate hand over my left leg.
I writhe beneath him and spit on his face. It only elicits a sinister laugh from him.
My mind is reeling.
Panic seeps into my system at high speed, and every inhale feels harder than the last.
The steady throb in my temple is unyielding.
“Everyone is working. No one will know about us, I promise.”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
No one is going to save me.
His hand flies to the buckle of his belt, fumbling with it until it opens, and he unzips his pants.
My heart thrashes against my ribs.
This won’t happen.
I refuse to be violated by this animal. I hate being touched. It’s unfamiliar, vulnerable, and it makes me sick to my stomach.
“You’ve been checking me out for months, Reeve. Too shy to make a move.” He smirks. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
I’ve been keeping an eye on him—there’s a big difference.
I summon all my strength and yank one arm free from his grasp, shoving it into my pocket. This is my last hope. I graze the pocket knife with my fingertips.
“You want to rub yourself, huh? Get it ready for me.” He eases one hand under the waistband of his briefs, stroking himself long and hard while keeping me pinned down with the other. “I’ve been waiting for you, Reeve.” He groans.
My breath catches in my throat.
I stretch my sweaty fingers.
Blood pounds in my ears.
“All you have to do is surrender, and I will ensure you are satisfied, too. You will like it when we’re done.
Maybe you will beg for more.” His weight crushes me and keeps me bolted to the floor.
“You don’t matter. You are nothing to your parents.
If you go unnoticed, they wouldn’t even know.
It must be hard living with all this weight on your shoulders.
Let me help you lift it. I will take care of you. ”
I swallow hard, losing the fragments of hope I have left when…
Got it!
I pull out the knife and flick it open at my side.
“Reeve, I’m not going to hurt you,” he promises.
My eyes widen as a sudden calm washes over me, as if I’ve centered myself.
The music fades, and his face sharpens.
My hand flies to his neck, and the knife plunges into his throat.
I slash it across without a second thought.
Blood pours out rapidly.
“Like hell, you won’t. You’re not going to touch me or anyone else ever again.” I whisper-shout.
I pull the knife back and shove Dick’s body off me. He is still gargling as I scramble to my feet. Without a penny or an afterthought, I run away and don’t dare to look back.
Forced to live a life on the run, away from a drug addict who later overdosed and a con artist who eventually got life imprisonment, I stole food and clothes.
I slept on a different porch every night because I had no one who cared for me or was willing to save me until Romina Bishop came to my rescue, offered to train me, and gave me a sense of purpose.
Under her scrutinizing gaze, I was given one shot, and I had to see it through because I had nothing left.
I’ve been running for two weeks, getting as far away as possible from the circus. The streets I’ve passed are a blur behind me. I have no idea where I’m going, but my legs keep pushing me forward. I am exhausted, yet panic rages in my nervous system when I hear the police sirens in the background.
I run down a few more streets, passing Victorian houses with wrap-around porches and manicured lawns that scream money.
That is merely a dream for someone like me.
As the sirens fade into the distance, I pause beside a mansion with a sprawling yard, positioned slightly away from the other houses. There’s no gate or fence. The streetlamp is the sole source of light. Silence presses in from all directions, and I dare to step closer and onto the porch.
No movement or sound comes from inside as I press my ear to the front door.
Maybe they are on vacation?
I hope so because it seems like a nice place to crash.
A comfy swing hangs in the corner, and my muscles scream in protest, urging me to lie down and get a few hours of sleep before the first rays of light come out.
I lower myself, propping the rustling bag of food at my side. My lids shut as I rest my head on the fluffy cushion and clutch the knife in my pocket.
This is so comfortable.
It’s small for my size, but I would give anything to have that someday.
A few more thoughts run through my mind before everything fades.
“Kid, what are you doing on my porch?” A woman’s resonant voice startles me awake.
I crack my eyes open and am blinded by the harsh morning light.
I swear I just closed my eyes.
“I’m leaving.” I quickly grab the plastic bag from the swing. That was probably the best sleep I’ve had in forever. I turn to leave, and the woman’s voice trails behind me as I step down the stairs.
“Hold on.”
I spin to face her and immediately freeze when our eyes lock. That murderous look in her eyes. That calmness. That half-fake smile that can lure people in. She is danger wrapped in an elegant suit.
“What is your business here?” she questions, fixing me with a threatening look as she ties her long, red-copper hair.
What am I supposed to do now?
“N-nothing. I just slept here, and now I’m leaving.” I don’t need another grown-up to cage me like I was caged at the circus. I would have done it years ago if I had known I could survive the streets. It’s not ideal, but I could have saved money and gotten Mom out.
“Who do you work for?”
I furrow my brows. “No one...” I hesitate to answer because I have no idea where she’s going with this.
Her eyes sweep down the length of my body, studying the jacket I took from someone’s yard that hangs wide open. Their jeans are a little tight, but convenience is a privilege right now. On the other hand, their kicks are great.
“You do now.”
“What?” I stare in confusion.
“Did you run away from home?” She’s interrogating me. Maybe she’s a cop. In that case, I’m screwed. If I run, it’ll make me look guiltier.
“Something like that.” My voice comes out rough and steady this time. I am not going to juvie, or wherever kids like me go.
“I’ll give you clothes and food and train you so no one can hurt you.” She nudges her chin out and wiggles her brows once at the burn on my bare chest.
Instinctively, I reach to fasten the jacket around me, staring at the dirt under my fingernails and the dark layer covering my skin.
I was planning to use someone’s hose and get a shower before I left.
“No need to feel ashamed. I’ve seen worse. Follow me.” She orders and enters the house.
I stare dumbfounded, my mouth hanging open.
Is she for real?
“Come on,” she shouts from inside.
What do I have to lose?
It’s either that or looking over my shoulder, knowing someone is searching for the kid who murdered the owner of our city’s beloved circus.
I don’t have anywhere else to go or even one adult I can trust. They’re all a bunch of fuckups.
Maybe I am, too. So, it makes perfect sense for me to walk inside.
“Is this your home?” I ask, stepping through the front door and gazing at the grand staircase in the foyer.
A few men in dark tactical gear walk back and forth.
The white marble floor delivers me further inside.
“No. I’m here on business.” A short answer escapes her pursed lips as she clicks her heels against the floor in annoyance. “I don’t have all day.”
She walks to the right, and I follow behind.
What does she do for a living?
We pass by an extravagant living room adorned with crystal chandeliers, and a glass cabinet catches my attention. It’s filled with saxophones in different sizes and colors.
They look like trophies.
I quickly shuffle past an expansive wooden kitchen with mouthwatering appliances to fulfill everyone’s desires.
I’m starving.
I’ve only seen this kind of stuff in old magazines.
Her den is sparkling, not bleak.
“You can take a shower. My cook will make you breakfast. Then, you will be transported to a safe house where you’ll be trained. I’ll visit you once I’m done here. My most trusted operators will help you settle into your new home. I need you to read my contract and sign it.”
“What’s the catch?” I ask, entering a room with a wooden desk in the middle.
She suppresses a chuckle. “You seem clever, Reeve Hardy.”
My eyebrows pinch together. “How do you know my name?”
“I know everything.” She smirks, and that frightens me even more.
That woman scares me in ways I never thought possible.
I’ve lived with scumbags my whole life. I’ve committed crimes.
There’s blood on my hands. She doesn’t threaten to hurt me, but the brutality in her eyes baffles me.
She has definitely seen things in her life that others haven’t.
“You’re going to work for me now, and I will ensure you won’t end up on the streets.” She drops a stack of papers into my hand and tells the guard who followed us to take me upstairs.
Once I’m left in the room alone, I make a beeline for the joint bathroom.
This is a chance to have a fresh start.
I rub my neck as I look in the mirror—can’t stand the sight of my dirty reflection.
My gaze drops to the porcelain sink.
I have to do this. For me. For Mom.
What other choice do I have?
I fish the knife out of my pocket and search for something sharp in the cabinet. This is the only thing I own, the only memory of Mom, and now it’s tainted forever. There may not be a way back from where I’m going, but at least I won’t die at the circus.
I grab a pair of scissors from the tumbler on the second shelf and begin to carve my initials into the handle.
That was her home, but she played a game because that’s what Romina does to protect her granddaughter.
Winona was in a safe house and was supposed to return that day when I showed up at her doorstep.
I was there for two hours before Romina sent me to one of her training sites thousands of miles away.
For five years, I trained with a Shaolin master, a contract killer specializing in knives and weapons, and a former Navy SEAL with impeccable combat skills.
I don’t need pity.
I’ve built a life for myself.
I’ve learned from a young age that there’s always a choice to make, a line to cross, and a trap to fall into, whether we like it or not—whether it’s wrong or right. Moral ambiguity is just part of life in a broken world, and it’s likely what makes it so thrilling when the stakes are high.
We’re doing everything we can to survive or protect the ones we love most. Every scar on my body shows how far I would go to protect Winona, no matter the price it costs me.
I traveled across the world because I had to.
I would be her shield—the one I never had.
The van approaches an abandoned airfield up north, where Romina keeps a private plane and a professional team to supervise the flight ahead.
“Don’t you think she will recognize you with the mask?” Braxton unplugs his things and packs them into his bags.
“I hope not.” Until she’s ready to face me.
“I don’t think so,” he shakes his head.
Mitch quickly comments, “I think she will,” before his eyes meet Braxton’s.
My eyes dance between the two, and a grin nearly rises, but I stop it in time.
“I bet she wouldn’t.”
“I’m a hopeless romantic, let me have my moment. Sheesh. Your eyes are everywhere with your computers, and yet you’re so fucking blind.“ Mitch is at a breaking point and will soon reach the end.
“What has gotten into you?” Braxton looks at him, confused as fuck.
“Nothing.” He storms out of the van. “Everyone’s here,” Mitch informs me as we hop out of the van as well. “Need help with the lady?” He goes to grab her legs, and my eyes flash murder.
“Touch my wife, and I’ll end your life.”
“Catchy.” He raises his tatted hands in the air, completely surrendering because he knows I’m not playing games when her life is on the line.
I curve my hands under her legs and back, lifting her to my chest while she’s still unconscious.
The faded paint on Braxton’s face is half-smeared as he drags the back of his hand over his red mouth, utterly unaware of the mess he has made. His dyed green hair is matted to the paint on his forehead while Mitch glances at him with a wicked smirk.
“You two know the drill.” I wink at them, my back facing the flight team.
They nod in unison and head inside the plane.
Plans change, and we must drift with the tides if we don’t want to sink.