Chapter 23
Jenny
The cold brick wall scraped against my back as I pressed myself deeper into the shadows of the alley. Every muscle in my body trembled—from fear, from exhaustion, from the damp night air that cut through my filthy t-shirt. A car’s headlights swept across the opening of the alley, and I froze, certain they would see me, certain they were looking for me.
How long had I been running? Hours? The whole night? The forest seemed a lifetime ago now, the horrible sounds of Silent Guy’s screams still echoing in my ears. He’d died for me. Actually died. And I’d left him there.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice cracking. The tears came again, hot streams down my already raw cheeks. I’d been crying on and off since I reached the highway, since a trucker had spotted me stumbling along the shoulder and given me a ride to the city outskirts.
He’d been nice, the trucker. Asked if I needed help, if he should call someone. But I’d been too scared to trust him completely, making up a story about going to my aunt’s house nearby. He’d frowned, clearly not believing me, but let me out where I asked – at a gas station on the edge of the city.
Now I was lost in a maze of streets I didn’t recognize, in a neighborhood that looked nothing like the parts of the city I knew. The buildings loomed tall and dirty, windows either broken or covered with metal grates. Garbage spilled from overflowing bins, and something scurried in the shadows that I desperately hoped was just a cat.
My stomach cramped painfully, a hollow ache that hadn’t stopped since I’d eaten the last of Silent Guy’s granola bar hours ago. The tracking device he’d given me pressed against my skin where I’d hidden it in my sock. It was my only hope now – that someone, somewhere, was following its signal.
Another car approached, driving slowly along the street. I shrank back further, making myself as small as possible behind a dumpster. The vehicle paused at the mouth of the alley, its engine idling. My heart slammed against my ribs, each beat so strong I thought it might burst through my chest.
Please drive away. Please don’t find me. Please.
After what felt like forever, the car continued on. I let out the breath I’d been holding, the relief making me light-headed. I couldn’t stay here. I needed to keep moving, to find something familiar, someone who could help me.
I peeled myself away from the wall, legs shaking so badly I wasn’t sure they’d hold me. The mouth of the alley opened onto a street I didn’t recognize, lined with closed shops protected by heavy metal shutters covered in graffiti. In the distance, I could hear sirens, but I couldn’t tell if they were coming closer or moving away.
A man stumbled out of a doorway across the street, his movements jerky and unpredictable. I ducked back into the shadows, watching as he argued with someone I couldn’t see, his voice rising and falling in a rhythm that made no sense. My heart pounded harder. I needed to go the other way.
I turned and hurried deeper into the alley, hoping it connected to another street. The darkness closed in, the only light coming from a single bulb over a service door halfway down. My sneakers crunched on broken glass and other things I didn’t want to identify. Something wet seeped through my sock – a puddle, I hoped, and not something worse.
The alley ended at a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. I stared at it in despair, tears threatening again. I couldn’t go back the way I’d come, not with the strange man still out there. But I couldn’t climb this fence either, not with my exhausted muscles and the sharp wire at the top.
A soft rustling sound froze me in place. I wasn’t alone in the alley.
“Who’s there?” I whispered, my voice thin with fear.
A figure emerged from behind a stack of wooden pallets – a woman, her face gaunt in the dim light, clothes hanging loose on her skeletal frame. Her eyes darted nervously, never quite focusing on me.
“Whatchu got?” she asked, her voice raspy. “Anything to share?”
I backed away, pressing against the fence. “N-nothing. I don’t have anything.”
Her eyes narrowed as she moved closer, the light from the single bulb revealing track marks up and down her arms. “Everyone’s got something,” she insisted. “Money? Food?”
The granola bar wrapper crinkled in my pocket where I’d stuffed it earlier. Her head snapped toward the sound, suddenly alert like a predator hearing prey.
“You got food,” she said, not a question this time. She lunged forward with surprising speed, bony fingers clawing at my pocket.
“No! Stop!” I twisted away, instinctively using the move Brody had taught me to break a grip. “It’s empty! Just the wrapper!”
She didn’t listen, desperation making her stronger than her frail appearance suggested. Her nails scraped my arm as she grabbed for the empty wrapper, the pain sharp and unexpected. Without thinking, I shoved her away, harder than I meant to. She stumbled backward, landing hard on the dirty concrete.
“You little bitch,” she snarled, scrambling to her feet. “Give me what you got or I’ll—”
A deep voice cut through the alley. “Problem here?”
We both froze. A man stood at the entrance to the alley, his silhouette backlit by the street lamp behind him. He was tall, his shoulders wide beneath a leather jacket. Gold glinted at his neck and on his fingers as he stepped forward.
“Well, what do we have here?” he said, his voice smooth but somehow more frightening than if he’d been yelling. “A little lost lamb?”
The woman backed away, hugging the wall. “She’s mine, Rico. I found her first.”
“Did you now?” His laugh held no humor. “Looks to me like she found you, Mary. And now I’m finding her.”
Every instinct I had screamed danger. This man wasn’t here to help; he was something worse than the woman, worse maybe even than British-not-British and his knife.
Rico moved further into the alley, the light catching his face now – handsome in a sharp way, but with eyes that were cold and calculating. “Come here, little girl. You look like you need help.”
“I’m fine,” I managed to say, though my voice trembled. “My dad’s waiting for me just around the corner.”
“Is that right?” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Then how about I walk you there? Dangerous neighborhood for a pretty little thing like you.”
He took another step closer. The woman, Mary, used his distraction to scuttle away, disappearing through a doorway I hadn’t noticed before. I was alone with him now.
“No thank you,” I said, backing up until the fence pressed against my shoulders. “I can find my own way.”
“I insist.” Another step. He was close enough now that I could smell his cologne, something expensive that couldn’t quite mask the cigarette smoke underneath. “A gentleman always helps a lady in distress.”
I remembered what Sensei taught us about predators – that they looked for easy targets, for weakness. I straightened my spine, trying to look more confident than I felt. “I said no.”
His expression hardened. “That’s not how this works, sweetheart. You’re coming with me, one way or another.”
He lunged forward, hand outstretched to grab me. I ducked, rolling to the side like we’d practiced at the gym hundreds of times. His fingers brushed my arm but didn’t connect. Surprise flashed across his face, quickly replaced by anger.
“Playing hard to get,” he growled. “I like that. Makes it more fun.”
I scanned the alley desperately. The fence behind me. Rico blocking the exit to the street. The door where Mary had disappeared – my only chance. I feinted left, then darted right, making for the doorway.
Rico anticipated my move, stepping into my path. His hand clamped around my upper arm, fingers digging in painfully. “Got you now, you little—”
I didn’t think, just reacted. My knee drove upward, connecting solidly between his legs the way Brody had shown us for self-defense. Rico’s grip loosened as he doubled over, a stream of curses pouring from his mouth. I twisted free and ran for the door, yanking it open and plunging into darkness beyond.
The smell hit me first—urine and sweat and something chemical that made my nose burn. I stumbled forward, hand outstretched in the blackness, finding a wall to follow. Behind me, Rico’s curses grew louder as he recovered, his footsteps echoing as he entered the building.
“You’re gonna regret that,” he called, his voice bouncing off walls I couldn’t see. “Nowhere to run in here, little girl.”
My foot hit something soft. A person, sleeping or worse. They groaned, shifting away from the contact. My heart jumped into my throat as I realized where I was. Some kind of abandoned building filled with people like Mary, desperate and dangerous.
A dim light filtered down from somewhere above, enough to make out vague shapes and huddled forms on the floor, a staircase rising along one wall, doorways leading deeper into the building. I headed for the stairs, picking my way through the prone bodies, each breath shallow to avoid the stench.
“I see you,” Rico called, closer now. “Playing hide and seek? I’m very good at that game.”
I reached the stairs and started climbing, wincing at each creak of the old wood. The steps felt dangerously loose beneath my feet, threatening to give way with every step. But going back wasn’t an option.
The second floor was emptier, moonlight streaming through broken windows to illuminate empty rooms with debris-strewn floors. I could still hear Rico on the stairs, taking his time, confident in his pursuit. I needed a way out, or at least a better place to hide.
A window at the end of the hallway looked promising; maybe it faced another building, a fire escape, anything. I hurried toward it, hope flaring for the first time since entering this nightmare building.
The window overlooked another alley, narrower than the first. Two floors below, dumpsters and more garbage awaited. No fire escape, no connecting building. Just a straight drop to certain injury or worse.
Rico’s footsteps reached the top of the stairs. “Running out of places to go,” he called, taunting me. “Why don’t you make this easy on both of us?”
I pressed my back against the wall beside the window, trying to control my breathing. Think, Jenny. What would Bella do? What would Brody say?
Use your environment. Look for advantages. Don’t fight strength with strength.
I scanned the hallway desperately. A broken chair. Pieces of plaster from the crumbling ceiling. An old metal pipe that must have fallen from somewhere above. I grabbed the pipe, its weight reassuring in my hands.
Rico rounded the corner, a predatory smile spreading across his face when he spotted me. “End of the line, sweetheart. You’re coming with me now.”
“Stay back,” I warned, raising the pipe. My arms trembled with exhaustion, but I kept my grip firm. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He laughed, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. “You’re a feisty one. That’ll make you worth more.”
He stepped closer, and I swung the pipe. He dodged easily, still grinning. “Nice try. But playtime’s over.”
In one quick movement, he grabbed the pipe, yanking it forward. I held on, using his pull to power my kick at his knee. Another move from Sensei’s class. This time I connected solidly, feeling something give beneath my foot.
Rico howled, his leg buckling. The pipe slipped from both our grips, clattering to the floor. I didn’t wait to see if he’d recover. I darted past him, racing for the stairs, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might explode.
His hand shot out as I passed, catching my ankle. I went down hard, my chin striking the floor with enough force to make stars burst in my vision. The taste of blood filled my mouth as I kicked desperately, my free foot connecting with his face. His grip loosened but not enough. My shoe slipped off and I scrambled away, half-crawling toward the stairs.
Behind me, Rico cursed, the words slurred through what might be broken teeth. “You’ll pay for that,” he spat, tossing the abandoned shoe to the floor, the threat chilling despite his injured state.
I reached the stairs and flew down them, not caring about the noise now, focused only on escape. The sleeping forms on the first floor were stirring, woken by the commotion. I pushed past them, ignoring their confused protests, making for the door we’d entered through.
Outside, the alley was empty. I turned away from the fence and ran toward the street, legs pumping despite the exhaustion that made every movement agony. My bare foot screaming in pain when I stepped on broken glass but I didn’t stop. Behind me, I heard the door bang open, Rico’s threats following me into the night.
The street was still empty, the hour too late for normal traffic. I looked left, then right, desperate for somewhere to go. In the distance, I spotted the illuminated sign of a subway station. Underground. People. Witnesses. Safety, maybe.
I ran toward it, each footfall sending jolts of pain up my legs and a trail of blood a blind man could follow. My lungs burned, my vision blurring with tears and sweat. Behind me, I could hear Rico’s uneven footsteps—slowed by his injured knee but still coming.
The subway entrance loomed ahead, its grimy stairs leading down into fluorescent-lit tiles. I took the steps two at a time, nearly falling in my haste. At the bottom, the turnstiles presented a new obstacle. I had no money, no MetroCard, nothing.
Rico appeared at the top of the stairs, his face twisted with rage, blood staining his perfect white teeth where I’d kicked him. “Nowhere to run now,” he called, starting down the steps with his uneven gait.
I looked around frantically. An attendant booth stood empty; maybe on break, maybe just abandoned. The emergency exit door beside the turnstiles had an alarm, but I had no choice. I pushed through it, the piercing wail of the alarm filling the station as I sprinted toward the platform.
A handful of late-night travelers turned to stare—a homeless man curled on a bench, a couple leaning against the wall, a woman in a business suit who looked almost as exhausted as I felt. None of them moved to help as Rico burst through the emergency door behind me.
A rumble filled the station as a train approached. I had no idea where it was going, but it didn’t matter. Anywhere was better than here. The train screeched to a stop, doors sliding open with a mechanical hiss.
I leaped inside, turning to see Rico limping onto the platform, his eyes locked on mine with murderous intent. The doors began to close. He lunged forward, hand outstretched.
The doors slid shut inches from his fingers. His face contorted with rage as the train pulled away, leaving him behind on the platform. I collapsed onto an empty seat, my whole body shaking with adrenaline and relief.
The car was nearly empty. An elderly man dozing in the corner and a group of teenagers at the far end talked loudly among themselves. None of them paid me any attention, for which I was grateful. I must have looked terrible—dirty, bloody, wild-eyed with fear.
My hands trembled as plucked the sliver of glass from my foot and pressed a piece of my torn shirt onto the wound, and tying it in place. I studied the subway map above the doors. Colorful lines crisscrossed the city, station names blurring together in my exhausted state. I had no idea where I was or where I was going. But one station name caught my eye. There was something vaguely familiar about it. Was it near the gym? I couldn’t be sure, but it felt right somehow.
The train rocked gently, the motion almost soothing after hours of terror. I sat there watching the others on the train as my eyelids grew heavy, exhaustion washing over me in waves. I fought to stay awake, pinching my arm, shifting in my seat. I couldn’t fall asleep. Not yet. Not until I was safe.
Silent Guy’s face floated into my mind—his kind eyes, the way he’d helped me despite the danger to himself. The sound of his scream still echoed in my ears. The knowledge that he’d died so I could escape weighing on me like a physical burden.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, tears spilling down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
The teenagers glanced my way, then quickly looked away, uncomfortable with my obvious distress. The elderly man continued to sleep, oblivious. Outside the windows, darkness gave way to tunnel walls, then briefly to the night sky at elevated portions of the track, then back to tunnels.
I checked each station as we stopped, watching for the one that had seemed familiar. At each stop, I tensed, expecting to see Rico or some other threat waiting on the platform. But there was only the usual assortment of late-night travelers, none paying any particular attention to a dirty, crying child.
Finally, the automated announcement called out the station I’d been waiting for. My heart leaped with both hope and dread. What if I was wrong? What if this wasn’t near the gym at all? What if I stepped off this train only to find myself just as lost as before, or worse, to find Rico somehow waiting for me?
The train slowed, brakes squealing. I stood on shaky legs, moving toward the doors. The teenagers watched me now, perhaps wondering what a kid my age was doing alone on the subway at this hour. I avoided their eyes, focusing on the platform as it came into view.
The doors opened. I hesitated for just a moment, then stepped out, my body tense and ready to flee at the first sign of danger. The platform was nearly deserted. I was relieved to see that a lonely a transit worker paid me no attention sweeping up trash and a woman hurried off another car toward the exit.
I followed the exit signs, climbing stairs that seemed endless to my exhausted legs. Each step was agony. My foot screamed in pain and my muscles straining in protest after everything they’d endured. But I kept going, one foot in front of the other, driven by the desperate hope that I might recognize something once I reached street level.
The night air hit me as I emerged from the station, cooler and cleaner than the stale atmosphere below. I looked around, trying to orient myself. Tall buildings loomed on all sides, their windows mostly dark at this late hour. Street lamps cast pools of yellow light on empty sidewalks. A few taxis cruised past, but no other traffic.
Nothing looked familiar. My heart sank as I turned in a slow circle, searching for any landmark I might recognize. Had I made a terrible mistake? Was I now even more lost than before?
Then I saw it—a street sign at the corner. The name hit me like a physical blow. This was the street. Not the one the gym was on, but one that crossed it. I’d walked this way with my brothers once, months ago, when the road was closed and we had to go around.
Fresh tears sprang to my eyes, but these were different. These were tears of relief, of hope. I wasn’t home yet, but for the first time since escaping that warehouse, I knew where I was. I knew which way to go.
My legs found new strength as I started walking, counting the blocks in my head. Three to the right, then two more before the cross street where the gym would be. It would still be closed at this hour, but maybe someone would be there early. Sensei sometimes came before dawn to meditate. Brody occasionally slept on the office couch when training for a big fight.
The streets were eerily quiet as I walked, every shadow making me flinch, every distant sound sending spikes of fear through my exhausted body. But I kept moving, one foot in front of the other, the gym drawing me forward like a magnet.
One block. Two. I passed closed storefronts with metal shutters, a twenty-four-hour bodega with a sleepy clerk visible through grimy windows, an all-night laundromat humming with empty machines.
Three blocks. My legs threatened to give out with each step, but I forced them to keep moving. My eyelids felt like they had weights attached, constantly trying to drag down despite my efforts to stay alert.
The cross street appeared ahead. My heart leaped at the familiar intersection. Just two more blocks. Just a little farther. I could make it. I had to make it.
A car turned the corner, headlights sweeping across me. I froze, terror returning in a crushing wave. Had they found me? Had British-not-British somehow tracked me here? The vehicle slowed as it approached, and I prepared to run despite my exhaustion.
But it was just a taxi, the driver giving me a curious glance before continuing on his way. I let out the breath I’d been holding, my knees nearly buckling with relief.
One more block. My vision swam in and out of focus, exhaustion taking its toll. Every muscle begging for rest, but I refused to stop. Not when I was so close.
And then, finally, I saw it—the converted warehouse with its familiar brick facade, the discreet sign for the gym hanging beside the entrance. To my sorrow, the windows were dark, the door locked, but it didn’t matter. I’d made it.
I slipped into the side alley and slid down behind the dumpster to wait for morning and for Sensei to open the gym, my body finally surrendering to exhaustion. The hard concrete was the most comfortable surface I’d ever felt. A large box sat beside the dumpster and I curled up inside it to wait, my eyelids impossible to keep open any longer.
As consciousness slipped away, a single thought filled my mind—I was home. Not my real home, not yet, but somewhere safe. Somewhere with people who would help me, who knew me and what had happened.
The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was the sky beginning to lighten, dawn approaching to wash away the horrors of the night.