Chapter Nineteen
Lyra
Isleep in the guest bedroom, and for once, Killian lets it slide. He doesn’t attempt to disturb me or force me to come to bed with him.
That gives me all the opportunity I need to get the fuck out of here. My purse is in the room with me, which has all the essentials I require. Killian’s centurion card, which he gave me a few days ago. My laptop. Not my phone, but that’s what payphones are for.
First, I need make my way out of this apartment.
Then, withdraw as much cash as I can from the nearest ATM, and rinse and repeat until I have a few grand.
Ditch the card, get myself suitable clothes at a convenience store, and then call up Tommy.
My return to the states probably means that whoever was watching him isn’t anymore.
I might be able to press him for one final favor—to direct me to somewhere safe to hide, and facilitate me with new documents to get the fuck out of this country again.
I don’t care the backlash that Killian will have to endure. I’m not coming back again. If I have to spend the rest of my life running from a moron like him, that’s exactly what I’ll do.
Killian’s main elevator might be directly controlled by him, but the service elevator hidden neatly in the library is accessible by cleaning staff.
Staff that, coincidentally, only ever come here late at night—probably on Killian’s orders to stay out of his way—and use their keycards to get up and down.
As far as I can tell, the service elevator also leads to a different part of the building, hopefully a less-monitored area.
If I play my cards right and get even a little bit lucky, I should be able to get out of here.
It's easy enough to tiptoe through the apartment and get to the library. I come right on cue, as two maids are filing from the elevator—which is conveniently hidden in the very back corner of the library, between a row of dusty shelves. I hide behind a bookcase as they file out.
Luck does seem to be favoring me tonight, because one of them has their ID badge hanging from their hip, which makes it easy to swipe.
I glance over my shoulder to make sure no one saw me, dart into the elevator just before the doors close, and hit the level for the garage. There has to be some sort of back exit from there.
It’s easy enough to walk out behind one of the cars pulling out right now, and just like that, I’m out on an NYC street.
Immediately, I spot the two guards Killian assigned to me, idling on the street corner. They’re sharing a cigarette and laughing about something, which is probably a good sign. It means that Killian hasn’t realized I’m gone just yet, which affords me a little bit of time.
I scurry in the opposite direction, traveling several blocks at a hurried pace until I’m far away from Killian’s apartment building.
Then, I head deeper into the east side, moving from avenue to avenue until I hit 2nd.
While the trek takes maybe twenty minutes, it feels like hours before I find the first ATM—which is inside a convenience store, and two store spaces away from a subway stop.
New York City really is the perfect city to get lost in.
I’m worried that withdrawing cash will somehow bring Killian down on me immediately, but I know that at best, he’ll get an alert on his phone—and he ought to be asleep right about now, so he’ll see it in the morning.
Or, even if he does get it immediately and comes here, I’ll already be on the next subway downtown.
I manage to get a thousand in cash, then hurriedly purchase a hoodie and a pair of sweats from an exhausted-looking cashier.
My heart speeds a bit. I have maybe one more use of Killian’s card before I need to ditch it, but for now… the prospect of getting away is starting to look like an actual possibility.
Several subway hops and two more uses of random ATMs later, I ditch Killian’s card and my bag at Grand Central Terminal, purchase a full set of touristy, I love NY clothes and a matching bag, and head to the nearest payphone. I dial Tommy’s number by heart.
He picks up on the third ring.
“Who the fuck is this, and what the fuck do you want?” he snaps.
“Tommy,” I say hurriedly. “It’s me.”
An uncomfortably long pause comes over the line. “Lyra? What the fuck—how the hell—”
“I don’t have much time. Killian caught me—”
“I know. Your engagement was all over the tabloids.”
“—and I managed to give him the slip, but I need somewhere to stay. And new identity papers.”
Another, longer pause. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he mutters.
“Not even a little bit. He’ll be onto me almost immediately. Please, can you help?”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hisses. “I only just stopped getting tailed a few weeks ago, you know that? Most of my phones are still tapped. Helping you has brought me nothing but trouble—”
“Please,” I try again. “He’s trying to turn me into a human incubator. Fucking breeding stock. I need help.”
“Shit.” His voice is resigned. “Yeah, I’ve got a buddy who has a buddy. Do you have cash?”
“2,500.”
He scoffs. “That’s not going to be enough—”
“I have other accounts, but I can’t access them yet.
I’m good for it, I swear.” I’m kind of good for it.
I have just enough to get out of this country, find somewhere so rural it’s not even on a map to settle in, and get a job.
I don’t have enough to keep hopping from place to place like I did last time, which means that wherever I go has to be foolproof.
“You are a living goddamn nightmare,” Tommy mutters. “You know I had to leave Empire Journal Weekly? Granted, that turned out to be a good thing, but—”
“Tommy,” I emphasize. “Please.”
“Hold on.” I hear rustling, then the typing of a computer. “Can you get to this address?” he rattles off a street address somewhere in the east village.
“Yeah.” It’s just a few train stops away. “Do I need a key, or—”
“No, all you need is a word. Doll. That’s the password. Once you’re in there, I’ll get the rest of this bullshit sorted. I don’t mean this in a rude way, Lyra, but I sincerely hope this is the last I ever hear from you.”
“Likewise.” Every time I’ve reached out to Tommy, it’s because I’ve needed help with surviving or getting away from Killian.
The line goes dead. I head back into the subway station, navigating to the line that’ll take me closest to Tommy’s address.
My hypervigilance is at an all-time high; I do my best to scan and memorize the face of every passenger here with me.
Even at this time of night, this subway line is pretty crowded, mostly with partygoers either on their way to the afterparty or going home, already drunk.
If Killian catches me… fuck, I don’t know what he’ll do with me. Probably lock me in an actual cage. He can’t catch me. I won’t let him.
I’m on edge throughout the entire ride, and even more on edge when the train pulls up to my exit.
My eyes dart around, searching for any of Killian’s men.
I manage to make it out onto the dark, ill-lit city street without issue.
I even get to the street where Tommy sent me…
only to see a police block-off. Complete with red tape, half a dozen police cars, and barriers.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. A drug den in the area must’ve gotten busted.
Where am I supposed to go? I guess I need to find another payphone to get back in touch with Tommy, or even go to Annalise’s place…
Except I don’t want to put Anna in that sort of danger. The safest thing for her is to never see or speak with her again. Otherwise, she becomes leverage.
I turn around, walking briskly in the opposite direction of the police cars, only to pull up short.
Coming out of the subway station are two security guards I recognize. Killian’s men. How the fuck did they tail me here?
Flashing sirens and a bunch of policemen behind me; two trained and probably loyal men in front of me. One of them catches sight of me and elbows the other.
Goddamnit. My survival instincts take over, and I do the only thing I can think of. I break out into a sprint, running across the street. Maybe I can outrun them. Maybe—
“We have a runner!” someone shouts behind me—one of the policemen?
Fuck, if they’re here for a raid, sprinting in the opposite direction makes me look like a goddamn suspect. But I can’t stop now, I have to get away. I’m so close to freedom I can almost taste it.
Footsteps thud behind me and to the side of me, people, giving chase.
It only makes me run faster—until a body slams into me from behind, taking me to the ground.
My ankle bends at an unnatural angle, sending searing pain up my left leg, shocking the breath out of me as much as the impact with unforgiving New York City sidewalk does.
I gasp, my eyes watering, my ears ringing, as my arms are wrenched behind my back.
“Ma’am, you’re under arrest for—”
“Stop!” I turn my head in time to see Killian’s security rounding on the policeman who’s straddling me. “Trust me, you don’t want to touch this one.” He flicks a disinterested gaze over me, cold brown eyes laced with mild irritation, as if annoyed that he’s had to chase me around the city.
Another policeman steps forward. “Sir, you’re interfering with an arrest—”
“That’s Killian King’s fiancée,” the guard emphasizes. “Bringing her in will cost you career.”
“Don’t know who the fuck you’re talking about.” The police officer gets off me and yanks me to my feet by my arms. I let out a cry of pain as agony reignites in my ankle, searing fire shooting up my leg. God, please tell me it’s not broken—
“She’s hurt,” Killian’s man snaps. “You have to—”
“I don’t gotta do shit, pretty boy. This girl was seen running from a drug raid. We’re taking her down to the station. Whoever this Killian King is can meet her down there.”
Fuck. My. Life.