Prologue #2
I shake my head, amazed at her confidence. The girl has never for one moment believed she didn’t belong in the world, or that she didn’t know what was best. Hell, I don’t think she’s every even considered the idea that she might be wrong about anything.
She’s too sure of her own importance in the world, and too secure in the knowledge that no matter what she does, someone will get her out of it.
I could only wish for that level of belief. I’ve never once believed I was owed anything in this life–having a father who hates you will do that–and I can’t imagine inhabiting a world where you can just take that sort of thing for granted.
Before I can even finish the thought, though, the air in the cafe shifts, and everything goes directly to shit.
Above us, the lights flicker once, twice, three times, and then sudden grow dim, and the air gets thick, like it’s suddenly full of moisture. Everyone around us seems to take a breath in–though I don’t know how the fuck I think I know that–and every single hair on my body stands up.
In my head, my instincts start screaming.
And in my chest, my heart starts pounding a dangerous and all-too-familiar pattern of fear.
I glance from Taryn to Stella, panic skidding its way across my skin, and see that they’re having some sort of silent conversation without me. Talyn’s lips are moving and Stella is shaking her head, and when Talyn finally turns to me, I’m almost surprised at the attention.
Whatever she sees in my face must scare her, though, because she goes several shades whiter. I reach for her automatically, my first instinct to try to make her feel better, and she grabs my hand.
“What’s going on?” I mouth, desperate for an answer but terrified to actually use my voice.
She shakes her head and opens her mouth like she’s about to answer, but then her eyes fly to the space over my shoulder and she freezes.
And I don’t have to ask, I don’t have to look, because the look on her face is enough to tell me that we’re in trouble. But I’ve spent so much of my life being left out and taking other people’s word for it that I can’t just sit here and not know what’s happening.
I can’t keep my back turned on whatever is scaring her so badly.
I turn slowly, some deep part of me thinking that if I don’t move quickly, whatever it is won’t notice me, and then freeze at what I see.
I thought it was strange that there were men in here with us when Stella said the cafe had been closed, but those men were nothing compared to the ones who just came through the door.
They’re clad in floor-length black trenches and fedoras–which I didn’t realize people even still wore–and they definitely don’t belong in this cafe.
Hell, they don’t even belong in this neighborhood.
We’re right down the street form NYU and though this isn’t exactly a posh area of the city, it’s normally pretty safe.
We don’t get a lot of 40s-style gangsters around here.
But that’s exactly what those men are. Well, maybe not 40s-style. I don’t know why they’re dressed the way they are or who they think they’re impressing.
But there’s exactly zero chance that they’re good, upstanding citizens.
Because normal people don’t dress like that. And they don’t wear leather gloves over fingers twitching with the need to pull a gun. They don’t have eyes as dark as Satan himself and expressions that say that the moment they find whoever they’re searching for, that person is in trouble.
When their eyes land on the three of us and they turn in our direction, my heart stops hammering like it knows this is not the time to panic.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t send my brain that information, and every single fatal outcome goes racing through my thoughts.
I’ve grown up in the mafia and I know what men like that do with young girls. Kidnapping. Extortion. Ransom.
Sex rings.
My brain presents me with about fifty different possibilities, none of them good, and I hear Taryn gasp behind me, which means she’s figured it out too.
I add another quick thought to my stream of consciousness–that they won’t be here for her, as she’s just a stepdaughter with no blood ties–and follow that up with one more.
Stella and I are both blooded mafia family members.
And she might be the more important one, but that’s not going to mean anything if they’re here for something more than ransom.
“Run.”
The word is quiet and intense, but I don’t hesitate for a moment.
I somehow propel myself out of my chair and hit the black and white checkered floor already running, Taryn one step in front of me and Stella somewhere on my heels.
Taryn stretches her long legs out and sprints forward, and it only takes me half a second to realize where she’s going.
The kitchen is right in front of us, and has a back door that leads into the alley behind the cafe.
From that alley, it’s a straight shot to one of two main streets... and the taxis running up and down them
It may be midnight, but this is the city that never sleeps. And if we can get to a street where there are people, we might find some safety. Those men behind us are terrifying, no lie, but they can’t kidnap us if there are a bunch of people there to witness it.
Unless they mean to kill all the witnesses.
Oh God.
I push my legs harder, running as quickly as I can as I try to keep up with my taller friend.
I don’t know where Stella is but she’s got to be behind me somewhere, and if I know the girl she’ll manage to overtake me in a matter of moments.
She and Taryn are both taller than me, and I’ve never been quick on my feet.
My father claims it’s because I could stand to lose some weight.