3. CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER TWO
Razor
I scanned the crowded terminal, my eyes cataloging every exit, every security camera, every face that lingered too long in our direction.
Ophelia clutched Dante's hand so tightly her knuckles had gone white, her eyes darting over her shoulder every few steps like she expected her ex to materialize behind us.
The kid bounced between fear and excitement, his Spider-Man backpack bobbing against his small frame.
We had twenty minutes to make it through security and to our gate.
Twenty minutes to disappear before anyone realized where we'd gone.
"Stay close," I murmured, placing my hand lightly on the small of Ophelia's back to guide her toward the shortest security line. She flinched slightly at my touch, then forced herself to relax. Progress. Small, but there.
"Is that man looking at us?" she whispered, nodding toward a guy in a suit checking his phone.
"He's looking at his boarding pass," I assured her, already having assessed and dismissed him. "Remember what I said—act normal. Nervous people attract attention."
She nodded, squaring her shoulders with visible effort. The girl had guts, I'd give her that. Twenty years old and already weathered more shit than most people twice her age.
I handed her the boarding passes I'd printed at the self-service kiosk. "Hold these. I'll handle the bags."
Dante tugged at my jeans; his head tilted all the way back to look up at me. "Are we really going on an airplane?"
"Sure are, little man." I hoisted our single carryon—all we'd had time to pack before leaving the motel at dawn. "Have you ever flown before?"
He shook his head, eyes wide. "Does it go super fast like a rocket ship?"
"Not quite that fast," I chuckled, surprised by how easily the sound came. I wasn't known for laughing much around the club. "But, still pretty amazing."
The security line inched forward. I positioned myself slightly behind Ophelia and Dante, giving me a clear view of both them and anyone approaching. Old habits. When you've spent as many years watching for rival clubs and undercover cops as I had, situational awareness becomes second nature.
"Boarding passes and IDs," the TSA agent droned when we reached the front.
I handed over my driver's license, hyperaware of Ophelia's tension as she presented the fake ID Pretty Boy had arranged. Good quality work—should pass a standard check. Still, my muscles coiled, ready to move if anything went sideways.
The agent barely glanced at them before waving us forward to the screening area. First hurdle cleared.
"Mommy, I don't want to take off my shoes," Dante protested as Ophelia knelt to help him.
"It's just for a minute, sweetie. Everyone has to do it." Her voice was steady, but I caught the tremor in her hands.
I crouched down next to the kid. "You know why they make us take our shoes off?" I asked, keeping my voice casual.
He shook his head, momentarily distracted from his protest.
"It's like a superhero checkpoint. They're making sure nobody's hiding their secret identity." I tapped his Spider-Man backpack. "Even Peter Parker has to follow the rules sometimes."
Dante's eyes widened with understanding, and he immediately sat down to pull off his Velcro sneakers.
"That was good," Ophelia murmured as we placed our items in the gray bins. "Thank you."
I nodded, not making a big deal of it. "What lane are they putting us in?"
"The regular one, I think." She glanced nervously at the body scanner.
"I'll go first," I said. "Then Dante, then you. Keep him in sight at all times."
The line moved agonizingly slowly. I maintained a relaxed posture while my eyes never stopped moving, assessing everyone around us.
A security guard chatting with another agent.
A family with teenagers bickering over who carried what.
A businessman rushing past, late for his flight. Nothing concerning.
When my turn came, I stepped through the scanner without issue, collected my boots and jacket, then positioned myself where I could watch Dante follow.
"Arms up like a starfish," I heard Ophelia instruct him. The kid giggled and struck a dramatic pose before walking through.
"Good job, superhero," I said, helping him find his shoes while keeping one eye on Ophelia. She made it through without setting off any alarms, but the tension in her shoulders remained.
We redressed quickly. Fifteen minutes until boarding. The departure board showed our gate was at the far end of the terminal.
"We need to move," I said, slinging our bag over my shoulder. "Dante, you want a ride?"
Without waiting for an answer, I hoisted him onto my shoulders. He squealed in delight, small hands gripping my head for balance.
"Hold on tight, Spider-Man," I said, setting off at a brisk pace. Ophelia hurried alongside me, her eyes still scanning behind us periodically.
"Are we running away from bad guys?" Dante asked from his perch, thankfully keeping his voice low.
I caught Ophelia's panicked glance. "No, buddy," I answered smoothly. "We're just on an adventure. Sometimes adventures mean you have to move fast."
The terminal stretched before us, crowded with travelers dragging suitcases and staring at phones. I navigated through them efficiently, one hand steadying Dante, the other occasionally guiding Ophelia with the lightest touch when she started to fall behind.
"Gate B17," I said, spotting it ahead. "And they're boarding now."
We reached the gate just as they called our boarding group.
Dante was still perched on my shoulders, legs dangling against my chest, small hands occasionally covering my eyes which he clearly thought was hilarious.
I didn't mind. The kid deserved whatever moments of normal childhood we could give him.
The flight attendant smiled at Dante's excitement as we presented our boarding passes. "First flight?" she asked him.
"Yes! And I didn't even have to bring my secret identity!" he announced proudly.
The attendant looked confused but kept smiling. "Well, enjoy the ride, young man."
On the plane, I maneuvered us to our seats—I'd booked the entire row. Ophelia took the window, Dante the middle, me on the aisle. Tactical positioning. Nobody could approach without going through me first.
"Mommy, look! We're so high up already and we haven't even started!" Dante pressed his face against the small oval window, smudging it immediately.
"That's just because the plane is tall," I explained, helping him with his seatbelt. "Wait until we're actually flying."
"Will my ears pop? Billy at preschool said your ears pop and it hurts."
"Maybe a little," I said, digging through our bag. "But I've got a special trick." I pulled out a package of gummy bears I'd grabbed at the terminal store. "Chewing these helps."
His eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Really. It's science."
Ophelia watched our interaction with quiet wonder in her eyes. When I caught her gaze, she quickly looked away, but not before I noticed the slight softening around her mouth.
"How does the plane stay up?" Dante asked as we taxied toward the runway. "Is it magic?"
"Better than magic. It's engineering." I found myself explaining the basics of lift and thrust to a four-year-old, using his Spider-Man toy to demonstrate. The kid absorbed every word, asking surprisingly smart follow-up questions.
As the engines roared and we accelerated down the runway, Dante gripped the armrests, his eyes huge. The moment we lifted off, his face split into the purest expression of joy I'd seen in a long time.
"We're flying!" he whispered, awestruck.
Beside him, Ophelia was less enthused, her fingers white-knuckled on the armrest between us. Without thinking, I covered her hand with mine.
"First flight for you too?" I asked quietly.
She shook her head. "Just... a lot happening."
I nodded, understanding what she wasn't saying. As the plane leveled off and the seatbelt sign dinged off, I switched seats with Dante, now seated at the window with his face pressed against it counting clouds.
"Nobody knows where we're headed," I assured her. "Your parents, your ex—they're looking for a woman with a kid running scared. Not a family flying to Vegas for a wedding."
"Are you sure?" Her voice was barely audible.
"I'm sure. You're safe now." I gave her hand a gentle squeeze before withdrawing mine. "Both of you."
She studied my face like she was looking for the lie, the angle, the hidden agenda. I let her look. I had nothing to hide—at least not about this.
After a moment, she nodded, cautious trust flickering across her features. It wasn't much, but it was a start. And for now, that was enough.
The desert heat slammed into us like a physical force the moment we stepped out of the terminal.
After the recycled chill of the airplane, Vegas in July felt like walking into a furnace.
Dante immediately started tugging at his t-shirt, his face scrunching up in discomfort.
Ophelia squinted against the brightness, instinctively moving closer to me as we navigated through the crowds toward the rental car shuttle.
I kept my posture relaxed but my eyes sharp, one hand on our bag, the other hovering near the small of Ophelia's back, not quite touching but ready to guide or protect if needed.
"It's hot," Dante announced with the blunt honesty only kids can get away with.
"Desert hot," I agreed, guiding them to a spot of shade while we waited for the shuttle. "Different from what you're used to."
"I'm melting," he declared dramatically, flopping against his mother's legs.
Ophelia smiled down at him—a real smile that reached her eyes, brief but genuine. These moments had been rare since I'd met them. Each one felt like a small victory.