23. Sofia #2
I dive headfirst into the pool, letting the cool water envelope me and wash over my head, through my hair, over my body, between my legs and my toes and fingers.
I’m weightless as the water holds me, slows me down from hitting the bottom, and pushes me back toward the surface.
I change direction to swim up to get some air.
My head emerges and I tread water, breathing in the warm air around me. Then I lean back and float.
There isn’t a cloud in the sky. The reds and oranges are fading out around the edges of the world while little pinpoints of light start to shine through. The world is so much bigger than just this, bigger than me, bigger than…
A sound gets my attention. A quick, scraping noise like a shoe skidding across cement. I right myself and look around the pool area. The door inside the house is closed. The pool chairs are right where they’ve always been. The tiny shed behind me is still in the darkness.
Yet, I feel like I’m being watched. It’s… unsettling.
It’s probably just my anxiety. Still…
Maybe I should go back inside, just as a precaution. I am out here alone, and who the hell knows where Titus is?
I swim to the edge and pull myself out of the pool. All things considered, this was probably a terrible idea, anyway. That’s what I get for being restless.
I grab the robe and wrap it around myself, glancing around one last time before looking down to tie it closed.
I never get the chance to finish tying the belt. Arms grab me from behind and yank me up off the ground. I scream instinctively and a hand covers my mouth.
No! My mind screams. I grab at the hand around my mouth, pulling the wrist away just enough for me to bite down on the palm.
My attacker yells out in pain and the arm around my waist loosens. I drive my elbow back hard, catching him in the stomach, and he drops me. I scramble to my feet and run.
“Fucking bitch!” I hear behind me as hard footsteps pursue me. The door is only a few steps and it feels like it’s a million miles away.
“Titus!” I scream as I get to the door. I’m yanked back again. This time, I swing a fist back and catch my attacker on the side of the face.
“You little cunt—”
An elbow to the side of his head and he’s let me loose again. I stumble back this time, falling on my back. It’s then that I hear gunshots somewhere else on the property… and I see my attacker’s face. It’s one of Titus’s men. Or ex-men. The one with the same face of the other one I’ve beaten up.
The side of his face is already welting up as he glares angrily down at me, his jaw clenched with anger. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out his gun.
“Enough games,” he snarls at me. “Time to go, whore.”
The door opens behind me and he looks up and freezes.
Above me and behind me, a gun goes off, and a puff of smoke appears in my attacker’s shoulder.
He stumbles, dropping the gun. At the same time, an arm wraps around me and I’m lifted to my feet.
The sweet, musky smell of Titus’s cologne envelopes me.
He carries me inside, closing and locking the door behind him. He keeps eye on the glass door, his gun drawn and one arm pushing me behind him.
“Are you hurt?” he asks without looking at me.
“N-No,” I tell him. Instinctively, I grab onto his sleeve and lean into his back, grateful to be safe.
Cyrus appears at the door as the sound of footsteps rush up behind us. He locks eyes with Titus, then yells through the glass.
“You should know Ignat is dead.”
Chills rush over me and I start to shiver. His arm pulls me closer.
“And we’ve got your boy,” Cyrus adds. “Did you think you could hide him forever, Titus?”
Titus’s arm stiffens. “You son of a bitch,” I growl.
“You’d be surprised how many people in this town talk with the right motivation,” he said. “We’ve known about the little bastard for years now.” He tilts his head, glowering at us. “If you ever want to see him alive again, you’ll come out here and we can handle this like men.”
Titus takes a step and I tighten my hold on him. “Don’t,” I say, my voice a desperate growl. “It’s a trap. He’s baiting you.”
He stops. A second later, he shoots the glass. The bullet hole exits just inches past Cyrus’s head. Cyrus flinches, but he doesn’t leave.
“That’s the second time I’ve spared your life,” he says. “Bring me my son or there won’t be a third.”
Cyrus’s smile spreads across his face slowly. “You are getting soft,” he says. “I’ll give you some time to think things over… then I’ll be back and we can settle this like men.”
“Shoot him,” Titus says. I close my eyes as his men open fire on the doors. Glass and gun smoke fill the hall. When the shooting stops, I open my eyes. Cyrus is gone. “Get after him. I want his fucking head.”
His men rush off, feet stomping down the hallway. Titus lowers his arm, but I can’t let his sleeve go. My knees are shaking and I can’t stop shivering. He pulls my hand from his sleeve gently and looks down at me, taking my face in his hands.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
All I can do is nod. I want to cry, break down, something. I don’t. I clench my jaw and hold it together. He looks into my eyes, studying me, then takes my hand and walks me away from the broken glass and plaster.