Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Echo
The second she bolts, every nerve in my body snaps to attention.
I expected her to panic. It’s what people normally do when they’re staring down the barrel of my gun. They beg, they shake, they scream. But not this girl.
No.
In that split second before she took off, she glared at me and I saw challenge in her eyes.
Good.
I’m not one to turn down an easy kill, but it’s so much more interesting to play with your food before you eat it.
It’s why the situation with the Casello’s men got so out of hand.
A week ago, my brother and I came to an agreement with Dante Casello. The Italians would stop encroaching on our territory and ports. And in return, The Sannikovs would stop leaving bodies for them to find.
I didn’t like having my hands tied, but it was a necessary evil to keep our business in order, so I agreed. That is, until these four assholes crossed the line tonight.
Twenty minutes ago these motherfuckers snuck into our club and manhandled our baby sister, thinking we couldn’t do anything about it.
Stupid bastards.
We agreed to no deaths, but no one said anything about shattering bones. The only reason I let them land a few hits first was because I wanted to be able to argue self-defense, on the off chance Casello caught wind of the altercation.
Everything was going according to plan until she got involved. She distracted me, allowing one of those assholes to get a clean kick in that knocked me out cold.
When I came to and realized what they were doing to her, I snapped. I don’t even remember reaching for my gun. One minute it was tucked into my waistband, the next it was firing off rounds with lethal precision.
I let out a breath and take stock of the damage.
My knuckles ache, and my ribs feel like someone took a bat to them. I taste iron every time I swallow, and I can already feel my eye swelling shut.
What a fucking mess.
Leaning against the brick, I watch her flee and can’t help but smirk at the sight of her clumsy escape. Her legs buckle underneath her and her arms flail, like a baby deer taking its first steps in the world.
Jesus.
She’s almost making this too easy.
“Careful, Bambi. You might fall and snap your own neck before I get the chance to.”
I could easily catch her right now.
I probably should, given the circumstances.
But the urge to end this quickly feels… distant.
I’ve got this under control.
What’s the harm in drawing it out a little?
As soon as her silhouette disappears into the shadows, I push off the wall and begin my hunt. My shoes barely make a sound as I follow her path, my senses heightening with every step.
A trace of her scent lingers in the air. Peach tinged with the sweet smell of desperation.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
I round a sharp edge of a building and spot her just a few yards ahead. She glances back, eyes wide, hair wild.
“Run faster. Unless, of course, you want to get caught.”
“Fuck off, psycho!” She screams, pushing herself to run even faster.
The fire in her voice only fuels my drive.
She stumbles over a crack and catches herself against a dumpster before pushing off it with a grunt. She veers left, desperately trying to lose me, but I’m already two steps ahead of her. Cutting her off and herding her exactly where I want her.
She skids to a stop in front of a chain-link fence and turns to face me, her back slamming against it. The metal rattles, and her fingers claw at the links, searching for an exit that doesn’t exist.
I slowly step towards her, my shadow swallowing hers inch by inch.
She’s shorter than I expected. 5’5, 5’6 max. And the top of her head barely reaches my chest. Her face is flushed, and her brown, almond-shaped eyes are wide with panic.
“Gotcha.” I murmur, lifting my gun and aiming the barrel at the center of her forehead.
“Shit.” She says, dropping her hands from the fence.
“Shit indeed.” I say, cocking my head. “Any last words, beautiful?”
She looks up at me then, and something in my chest misfires.
“Yeah.” She says quietly, nodding her head. “Thank you.”
My brows pull together. “For what?”
“For back there.” She says, nodding in the direction we came from. “You saved me from whatever those men were about to do to me.” She explains. “If I’m going to die tonight, I’d rather it be by your gun than their hands.”
Her words register, and my jaw instantly tightens.
People don’t thank me.
They fear me. They hate me. They survive me, if they’re lucky. But they don’t fucking thank me.
“I’m ready.” She whispers, squeezing her eyes shut. “Just do it quickly.”
I take a step closer and place my finger on the trigger, but the idea of pulling it doesn’t feel clean. It feels wrong. Not morally, I lost that metric long ago, but viscerally.
Who is this girl?
First, she tries to take on four grown men all by herself. Then she stares down the barrel of my gun and fucking thanks me.
“What’s wrong with you?”
It isn’t what I mean to say, not in the slightest, but the words are out before I can stop them.
Her brow furrows, but her eyes stay shut. “What?”
“You accept your death so easily. Why?”
She flicks her eyes open and looks at me like there’s something wrong with me. As if I’m the one thanking the person who’s about to kill them.
Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out, and I’ve never been more aware of someone’s silence.
“Do you have a death wish?”
“What?”
“Suicidal tendencies?”
Outrage flashes across her face. “That’s not something to joke about.”
“I’m not joking.” I say flatly. “Answer the question.”
“No,” she hisses, squaring her shoulders. “Of course not.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
She glares at me like she wants to stab something. Preferably me. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re reckless.” I say evenly. “You should’ve stayed out of it. Most people would have.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “They were going to kill you.”
“And?”
She flushes, frustration carving lines into her delicate features. “And I couldn’t just—” She cuts herself off. Re-centers. “I couldn’t just leave you there to die.”
Why the hell would she try to protect me?
No one does that. No one steps between someone and danger. No one takes a hit meant for someone else. I do, but only because I was raised to do that. For River. For Athena. For Briggs. For the people closest to me, but never for some fucking stranger in an alley.
I stare at her, unsure of what to do next.
I eliminate threats. It’s what I’m good at, what I fucking excel at. And despite what she saw, she still doesn’t feel like a threat to me.
So why the fuck would I kill her?
Before I even track that I’m doing it, I lower my gun and tuck it back into my waistband.
Her eyes flick to the movement, then back to me. “You aren’t going to—” She says, cutting herself off like she’s scared to say the rest of the words out loud.
“I’m not going to kill you. As misguided as your actions were, you were trying to save me. So I’m willing to entertain other solutions.”
Relief hits her so hard, she nearly doubles over.
“But.” I add, because there’s always a but. “We’re still at an impasse here, Bambi. You saw what I did. I can’t just let you walk away.”
“Why not?”
I tilt my head.
“You’ll talk, and we both know I’m too pretty to go to jail.”
She glares at me, but I can tell she’s fighting the urge to smile by the way her lips twitch.
“I promise I won’t.” She says softly. “And as far as I’m concerned, what happened back there was self-defense.”
“Self-defense.” I repeat slowly.
“Yes.”
“I killed four men without a second thought.”
She swallows. “I know, but they deserved it. They nearly killed you and were in the middle of attacking me. If anything, you saved me.”
This isn’t how these situations usually play out. People see the monster and they run screaming. They don’t stand there arguing semantics and morality.
“Look.” She says, pulling me from my thoughts. “I won’t talk, I swear. Can we just go our separate ways and pretend like tonight never happened?”
Her idea doesn’t sit well with me. It doesn’t even register as possible. I shake my head. “A promise isn’t going to cut it, Bambi.”
She furrows her brow, and there’s almost something scientific about the expression that takes over her face. She looks like she’s been given a complex problem and is trying her damnedest to solve it.
“The knife.” She says suddenly, looking up at me. “The one I used on them. It has my prints all over it and their blood. You could keep it as leverage. Then we’d both be in trouble if I talked.”
Smart girl.
“Good.” I say, crossing my arms. “But still not enough. Those men weren’t just anybody, and the cops aren’t the only ones I need to be concerned about.”
She tries again, desperation tightening her features. “What if you check up on me?” She offers. “You know, make sure I stay quiet. We could… keep in touch. Like friends.”
Friends.
She says it like it’s harmless. Like she isn’t offering me a way into every unguarded part of her life.
Friendship gives me proximity without the complication of resistance. It gives me permission. A reason to ask questions. A reason to watch.
I stare at her for a moment, letting the silence stretch. Watching the way her shoulders tense and the way she still hasn’t looked away, despite the fear threading through her.
“You want to be my friend.” I say slowly, tasting the word on my tongue.
Her mouth twitches. “I want to walk out of here alive. If staying in contact with you is what makes that happen, then so be it.”
Honest, desperate, yet extraordinarily calculated.
I look at her for a long moment. Long enough that her breathing changes. Long enough that I can see the exact moment she starts to question if she’s going to survive this.
“Alright.”
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
“Yes. But if you lie to me, if you disappear, or if I even get the sense that you’re thinking about talking to anyone—”
She swallows. “I won’t.”
I nod. “Give me your phone.”
She hesitates for half a second before handing it over. She already knows there’s no point in arguing.
I fire off a quick text to myself before handing it back to her and pulling out my own cell.
“What’s your real name, Bambi?” I ask, locking eyes with her.
“Dahlia.” She whispers, lowering her gaze to her phone before glancing back up at me. “What’s yours?”
“Echo,” I reply, stepping back and giving her space I don’t intend to respect for long.
“It’s… nice to meet you, Echo.” She says hesitantly. “Thank you for letting me go.”
I cock my head at her. “Who says I have?”
She swallows, blinking her eyes hard. “But you said…” She drifts off.
“Leave.” I whisper, fighting a smile as I watch fear rake through her. “Before I change my mind.”
She doesn’t need to be told twice. She slides past me, and her shoulder brushes against mine for the briefest moment before she disappears into the night.
I stand there for a minute, watching the space she left behind.
I’m sure Bambi thinks this ends here. That she negotiated her safety and she’ll never have to see me again. But she’s wrong.
We’re friends now.
And I intend to be there for her.
Whether she likes it or not.