Chapter 13 Bella
BELLA
Lily is curled on the couch, one little socked foot sticking off the edge, eyes glued to the cartoon on TV. I stand at the window, sipping Maya’s terrible instant coffee, listening to her rush around the apartment, searching for her other shoe.
“I’ll only be gone a few hours,” Maya says, dropping a quick kiss on Lily’s head. “If you need anything, you’ve got my number. Don’t answer the buzzer unless you know them. I’ll text before I’m back.”
“I know, I know,” I say, managing a tired smile. “You worry too much.”
She rolls her eyes but hugs me anyway. “We’ll do the park later. Lily needs air and you need sunshine.”
Lily perks up. “Park?” she asks, mouth sticky with cereal.
“After work, baby,” Maya promises.
She’s gone in a blur—keys jangling, door shutting, her steps echoing away down the stairs. For a while it’s just cartoons and city noise, the muted comfort of a borrowed home.
I curl up on the armchair, my mind racing even as I try to breathe and focus on Lily, on the warm, small, ordinary things.
It’s almost noon when there’s a knock at the door.
I freeze. Lily doesn’t notice, humming to herself, stacking cereal puffs in a plastic cup.
I walk to the door, heart ticking faster. I peek through the peephole. A man stands there—late twenties, maybe thirties, sharp jaw, wearing a delivery jacket and cap. He’s holding something that could be a clipboard, but I can’t make out the logo.
I don’t open the door all the way, just crack it an inch, keeping the chain on. “Yes?”
He smiles, too polite. “Hey, I’m looking for apartment 402. This is 402, right?”
“Yeah,” I say cautiously. “Who are you looking for?”
He glances at his phone like he’s confirming. “Uh. Maya. I’m supposed to drop something off.”
Maya would have told me. She would have texted first. She would have warned me.
I take a step back from the door. “She’s not home.”
“That’s okay,” he says quickly. Too quick. “I can just leave it with you.”
“No,” I say. “You can come back later.”
I hear the edge in my own voice and I hate it, because it gives away that I’m scared. Fear is blood in the water.
His smile stays, but his eyes change. “It’ll take two seconds.”
“I said no.” My voice firms. “Goodbye.”
I start to close the inner latch.
He moves faster.
The chain jerks as he shoves the door, hard. His foot wedges into the gap before it can shut fully. The door slams against the chain and rattles the frame.
My stomach drops.
“Hey,” he snaps, the friendly act gone. “Don’t do that.”
My instincts take over. I don’t argue. I don’t reason. I turn.
“Lily!” I shout, already moving toward the couch.
I get two steps.
His hand grabs my hair from behind. Fist tight, scalp yanked back so hard my eyes water instantly. Pain shoots down my neck.
I gasp and claw at his wrist. “Let go!”
He drags me backward, away from Lily, away from everything that matters, and the panic turns white-hot.
Lily starts crying, confused and scared. “Mama!”
“Baby, stay!” I cry, voice breaking. “Stay!”
The man yanks again, pulling me toward the door like he wants to get me out of the apartment. Like the hallway is safer for him.
I twist, throwing my elbow back, but I can’t get leverage. My hair is his handle.
He sneers down at me. “You should’ve just opened the door.”
I see Lily out of the corner of my eye, scrambling off the couch, tiny and helpless, tears pouring down her face.
Something in me snaps into something colder.
I stop fighting his hand for half a second. I plant my feet.
Then I drive my knee up as hard as I can.
His face changes instantly. The sound that comes out of him isn’t a word. It’s pure shock and pain. His grip loosens, his body folding like someone cut his strings.
I tear free as he crumples, dropping to the floor with a groan, both hands clutching himself. I don’t wait to see if he’ll recover.
I sprint to Lily, scoop her up, and spin toward the door.
The chain is still half-on, the door still partly open, his foot still wedged near the threshold.
I slam the door into his leg with everything I have.
He howls, jerks his foot back.
The door swings shut.
I throw the deadbolt, shaking so hard my fingers fumble. I yank the chain into place. Once, twice, to make sure it’s caught.
Lily is sobbing into my shoulder, her small body trembling. “Mama,” she hiccups. “Mama, I’m scared.”
“I know,” I whisper, kissing her hair, my own breath coming in ragged bursts. “I know. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
On the other side of the door, I hear movement. A shuffle. A muttered curse. Then a heavy thud against the frame, like he’s testing it.
My heart hammers. My hands shake as I reach for my phone.
I don’t think about being polite. I don’t think about the neighbors hearing.
I hit Maya’s number first. Then, when it doesn’t connect fast enough, I hit emergency.
The lock shudders.
A hard hit slams into the door, the whole frame rattling like it might lift off the hinges. Lily clings to me, crying into my shoulder, her little fists knotted in my shirt.
“Shh,” I whisper, but my voice is useless. My own breath is too loud.
I press my phone to my ear. Nothing. No answer, no operator, just the dead, empty sound of a call trying to connect.
Another уelр. Another violent slam.
The chain groans like an old bone. The deadbolt holds for a second, then the whole door bucks inward. The metal plate on the frame squeals.
“Oh god,” I breathe.
I don’t think. I move.
I scoop Lily tighter and run down the narrow hallway, bare feet slipping on the hardwood. I can hear my own pulse in my ears. I can hear the man outside, grunting, the sound of rage stripped of words.
Behind me, the door explodes open.
Not fully at first. Just a violent crack, the chain tearing loose with a sound like snapping teeth. Then the door swings wide and slams into the wall.
Lily screams.
My stomach drops so hard it feels like falling.
I slam the bedroom door behind us and twist the lock, even though I know it won’t matter if he’s already inside. I grab the nearest piece of furniture, a chair, and wedge it under the handle with trembling hands.
The apartment is suddenly filled with his footsteps.
I back toward the far side of the room, keeping Lily against my chest. There’s a window. My eyes snag on it like it’s a lifeline.
I rush to it and yank the curtain aside.
Three floors up. A fire escape that ends one building over. No ladder. No safe way down. Just a narrow strip of air and the street far below.
My knees go weak.
No escape.
“Mama,” Lily sobs, her small voice strangled. “Mama, no.”
“I know,” I whisper, kissing her hair, kissing her forehead, like if I press love into her skin hard enough it will protect her.
A loud bang hits the bedroom door.
The chair jumps. The handle rattles.
I stumble backward, searching the room with wild eyes. Closet. Under the bed. Behind the curtains.
There’s nowhere that feels real.
Another hit.
The doorframe cracks. The chair scrapes across the floor.
Lily’s crying becomes thin, panicked, like she can’t get enough air.
“Shh,” I whisper again, tears hot in my eyes. “Please, baby. Please.”
I drop to my knees and shove Lily under the bed as gently as I can, my hands shaking so badly I almost can’t do it. It’s a stupid hiding place. He’ll check it. He’ll find her.
But the instinct is stronger than logic. Hide the child. Put her somewhere small. Somewhere your body can cover.
“Stay,” I plead, face close to hers in the dim space. “Stay right here. Don’t come out. No matter what. Okay?”
Her eyes are huge. Wet. She nods, silent, thumb in her mouth.
I slide back out, heart hammering, and crawl halfway under the bed myself so I’m between her and the room. My phone is still in my hand. I press it to my ear again. The screen shows the call still trying to connect.
Come on. Come on.
He hits the bedroom door again. The chair finally gives. It skids away with a screech. The handle jerks down.
For one frozen second, everything goes quiet, like the building is holding its breath.
Then the door swings inward.
Footsteps enter. Slow now. Confident. Like he knows he has time.
I clamp a hand over my mouth to stop the sound that wants to break out of me. My lungs burn. My whole body shakes under the bed, muscles screaming to run even though there’s nowhere to go.
A shadow crosses the floor.
I see his shoes. Close enough that if I reached out, my fingers could touch them.
Lily makes the smallest sound, a tiny hiccup, and my blood turns to ice.
The shadow stops. He shifts his weight, like he’s listening.
And I realize, with terrifying clarity, that the only thing worse than being found is what happens the second he decides we’re not worth keeping alive.
A hand clamps around my ankle.
I don’t even get a chance to scream before I’m dragged out from under the bed hard enough that my shoulder slams into the frame. The air leaves my lungs in a sharp burst. My fingers claw uselessly at the floor as I twist, reaching back blindly for Lily.
“No—please—” I gasp.
The man hauls me upright by my arm, jerking me to my feet. My vision spots. My head rings. I’m still scrambling, still trying to break free, when movement in the doorway freezes everything.
Another figure steps in.
An older woman.
She has gray hair pulled back neatly, a dark coat buttoned all the way up, shoes sensible and expensive. She does not look rushed. She does not look frightened. She looks…composed. Like she belongs anywhere she stands.
The man lets go of me immediately.
That’s when the fear really hits.
She raises one hand slightly and he backs off without a word, hovering near the door like a dog waiting for a command.
My knees threaten to give out.
The woman walks closer, slow, deliberate. She crouches down until she’s at my eye level, her movements careful, nonthreatening. Her eyes are sharp, assessing, not cruel but not kind either.
She studies my face like she’s confirming something long memorized.
Then she smiles. Just a little.
“Isabella Thomas,” she says calmly. “I’ve been looking for you.”
My blood turns cold.
“I don’t know you,” I whisper.
She tilts her head. “No. But I know you.”
Before I can move, one of the men bends down and reaches under the bed.
“No—” I lunge forward, panic tearing out of me.
Lily’s little hands claw at the floor as she’s dragged into the open, her face red and wet with tears.
“Lily!” I crawl toward her, my heart slamming so hard I feel dizzy. “Please, please—she’s just a baby—”
The man lifts her roughly, too fast, and Lily’s scream breaks into choking sobs. The woman simply takes Lily from the man’s arms as if correcting a mistake.
“Enough,” she says quietly.
The man lets go immediately.
Lily thrashes once, then the woman adjusts her hold, tucking Lily against her shoulder, one hand firm between her shoulder blades. She murmurs something low, steady, in a language I don’t recognize.
And Lily—my Lily—starts to calm.
Her cries soften into hiccups. Her small fists clutch the woman’s coat. Her head turns inward, pressed against a stranger’s chest.
That’s what makes my skin crawl.
“No,” I whisper, scrambling closer. “Don’t touch her. She doesn’t know you.”
The woman doesn’t look at me yet. She keeps rocking Lily gently, like this is familiar, practiced. Like she knows exactly how long it takes a frightened child to breathe again.
“She’s safe,” the woman says at last.
I shake my head violently. “You broke into my home.”
“She was frightened,” the woman replies calmly. “So were you.”
“You dragged me out from under a bed,” I snap, my voice shaking. “You don’t get to talk about fear.”
Now she looks at me. Her eyes are pale and sharp, taking me in with unsettling focus. Not curious. Evaluating.
“She’s exhausted,” the woman says, glancing down at Lily. “You both are.”
“Give her to me,” I say. “Now.”
For a moment, I think she won’t.
Then she lowers Lily toward me.
The second Lily is in my arms, she clings to me like she’s afraid I’ll disappear. I wrap myself around her, shaking, burying my face in her hair. She sobs into my shoulder, tiny fingers knotted into my shirt.
Behind me, I feel the woman straighten. “Good,” she says softly. “That’s exactly where she belongs.”
I turn on her, fury and terror colliding. “Who are you?”
She studies me for a long moment before answering. “Someone who has been looking for you.”
My throat tightens. “Why?”
“Because you made yourself difficult to find.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
She gives a faint smile. “That’s rarely the reason people are hunted.”
“What do you want?” I ask, barely holding myself together.
The woman smooths her coat, unbothered by the wrecked door, the chaos. “I want you to stop running.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“You already tried that,” she says calmly.
I shake my head. “You don’t get to decide my life.”
“No,” she agrees. “But I do get to decide how long you survive in his world.”
My heart stutters. What the hell does she want?
She steps aside, gesturing toward the door. “Get what you need. Just essentials. We’re leaving.”
“I said no.”
She meets my eyes, expression unreadable. “And yet, here we are.”
I look down at Lily, still trembling in my arms, and realize with a sick certainty—there’s no getting out of this mess easy.