Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
DALILA
I watch through the massive upstairs windows as Nevio climbs into his car, the collar of his long black trench coat pulled up over his face, hiding him from the world.
I’m angry, sulking, fuming, wanting to lash out even though there is no one to lash out at.
I still do not know what’s going on and now Nevio is leaving me here, not telling me where he’s off to - and he told me I wasn’t allowed to step out of the house. Not even into the garden.
What the fuck is going on with everyone and why am I a prisoner here?
His car pulls out of the long driveway and I watch it as he drives into the street and speeds away.
I shake my head.
I guess all of them have forgotten who I am.
All of my brothers, my father, did they really think I was just going to do as I was told?
I wait until I am one hundred percent sure that Nevio is gone and not coming back for some random reason.
Then I spin away from the window and start grabbing my things. My phone, my jacket, my sneakers.
I have to get out of here. I want to go home. I’m not sure if that is the best idea — but at least if I go home, I can confront Mas and make him tell me what this is all about.
He can’t avoid me forever.
Nevio trusts me - which makes me feel bad. The guards were not put on high alert to watch me, but rather to watch the perimeter of the property for possible intruders. I guess he assumes I am staying inside.
He s mistaken.
I bite my lip as I walk down the stairs towards the front door.
Wrapped up in my hand is the key to the security gate along the footpath leading out of the garden. It’s a quiet and less obvious route to take as opposed to trying to leave through the main gate.
I wait for the security guard to walk past and continue his routine around the garden.
I’ve been watching them all morning, so I am confident I know how much time I have to make it to the gate.
Counting in my head, I make a run for it, straight for the bushes along the edge of the walkway. I stay low and keep moving.
Fifteen.
Sixteen.
Seventeen.
Duck down.
Stay quiet.
I wait for the footsteps of the next security guard to move past me, then I look up over the bushes that are hiding me.
And go.
Now I’m just running flat out, feeling the burn in my lungs as the cold air smacks into them. I reach the gate and fumble with the key for a second because my fingers are so frozen.
It’s fine. I’ll warm up on the walk to town.
It would have been great to take a car, but there is no way I could have made it out of here with a car.
I’ll call an Uber when I’m far enough away from the house.
I click the gate closed behind myself then start on foot down the road, staying near the tree line, ducking low whenever a car comes past in case it’s Nevio.
It feels so good to be out in the open, away from the restrictions and the rules and people not telling me anything.
I grin as I jog, wanting to get to town faster.
But the grin fades really quickly when I see men following me on foot.
Surely the guards didn’t see me? If they did, they would have shouted or come after me in a car?
I glance behind me. Three of them, moving fast.
Wearing black gear and army boots. They are security — but they don’t work for Nevio. The uniform is wrong.
Fuck.
I run a little faster. I’m not cold anymore. My blood is pulsing though me at a decent pace and warming me up to where I want to take my jacket off. But I don’t have time for that.
Glancing left and right along the street, all I see are trees.
I’m going to have to go into them. It’s risky because then no one will see me along the road in order to maybe help me - but I have to because I can’t outrun these guys or hide from them out in the open.
I dart left, the wet ground mulches beneath my feet as I push through the trees into the forest. I can feel the dampness soaking into my clothing.
I’m dressed for town, not for a hike. And being wet and cold in the weather is a deathtrap in itself.
Don’t stop moving until you find somewhere good to hide.
I just keep talking to myself in my mind. It’s the best way to stay calm in situations like this.
I hear the men shouting behind me, somewhere in the trees, the sound bouncing in too many directions, echoing through the forest and making it difficult to know what direction they are coming from.
I have to hide. My legs are so cold they barely want to move anymore.
I can feel tears of panic and fear pressing against my eyes. No. Now is not the time to break down. Hide. Think. Move.
Ahead of me, I spot a massive rock outcrop and a fallen tree. I run towards it. There is a drop on the other side of the rock, down a steep slope that looks treacherous to be trying to walk on in this wetness.
I take a deep breath and step over the fallen tree.
My sneaker slips and I skid a few feet down the slope, grabbing onto some spiked shrubs to stop myself.
My hands are cut and bleeding.
I pull myself up into a small ditch on the muddy earth and press my body into it.
Holding my breath, I count.
Counting keeps me calm. It steadies my lungs; it slows my heart rate.
I hear the men, close, talking loudly, not afraid of being seen or heard like I am.
“Where did that little bitch go?”
“Malone is going to kill us if we miss this chance to get her.”
“Well, what the fuck are we supposed to do? This place is a shit show. It’s fucking cold.”
“Do I look like I fucking care about your discomfort? Find her or it’ll be your skin he wants instead of hers.”
“It’s a lot of effort to go through just so he can kill her.”
My heart is beating so loudly that I’m sure they will hear it.
The tears are streaming down my cheeks, leaving wet lines that the wind is biting at.
“Hey, over here, there are some skid marks. I think she went this way.”
Fuck.
They are even closer. They must have seen where I fell.
“There - you can see where she went—”
“Do you think she fell all the way down the slope?”
“No. The marks in the soil stop—there—”
“Fuck. We have to go down there.”
“Get moving.”
I don’t know whether to hold my ground or run.
I try to move, and the ground slides away beneath me. If I move wrong, I will slide all the way down the slope and it’s a pretty rocky, steep fall. I won’t survive it. But what’s worse?
Lenny Malone or falling off the side of a cliff face?
Honestly, the cliff face is the kinder option.
I’ve heard the stories about Malone. I’ve heard my brothers talking about him.
How is he involved in this? Why is he after me?
I hear heavy thuds as one man slides down the side, using his knife to spear into the wet earth as a grip. I look around from where I’m hiding and it’s the worst timing because I look directly into his face. His dark eyes lock with mine and he stabs his blade into the soil to shift himself lower, closer to me.
“She’s fucking here. That stupid bitch is making me fucking filthy.”
“Get her. Don’t let her get away.”