It worked.
I canât believe it worked.
The next time Paul came to see us, I told him I knew where the drugs were, and I would take him to them if he kept us together for the journey. Paul didnât believe me initially, and even Brooke was confused since I didnât dare share my plan just in case someone was listening. Brookeâs confusion ended up helping my case when I lied, explaining that I had found the drugs not long after Brooke turned up at my home, and moved them until I needed them.
I think he ended up buying it out of desperation. He certainly didnât look as in control as he had the day he was breaking my bones.
He threw us some clothes, ordered us to get dressed, then hauled the two of us into a jeep after forcing a bottle of water down each of our throats.
Brooke huddles against me, her eyelids drooping as the vehicle rocks back and forth speeding toward the address I gave Paul. He warned me that the second he saw something he didnât like, he would kill us both, but I assured him the place would be empty.
Iâm praying Iâm right.
The next time the jeep turns, I let the momentum slide me closer to Brooke. The guards ignore us and I tilt my head down, whispering softly into her ear.
âWhen I tell you to, you run, okay?â
âWhat?â she whispers back, her words nearly lost under the rumble of the engine.
âYou need to run and not look back, okay? Just trust me. Iâm so sorry for everything but I need you to trust me now. When I tell you to, you need to run as far as you can and as fast as you can.â
Brooke nods, clamming up when one of the guards turns to look at the two of us, a scowl on his face. I stare at him, studying his appearance before closing my eyes.
How did it come to this?
Why didnât my father find us? I know heâs been tearing the city apart looking for me, how has Paul kept us hidden so well? Unless heâs also hiding himself. His response when I mentioned the Murphys was enough to tell me that heâs not on as good of terms with them as heâd like me to believe. If I werenât so fucked up, maybe Iâd understand why, but right now I canât connect the dots.
This is my last chance. I want to save Brooke and return her to her daughter, our daughter. Itâs the last good deed I can do that will possibly make up for all the bad shit. Nausea pulls through my gut like rope and I struggle to keep the water down. Swallowing constantly serves as a distraction until the jeep lurches to a stop. Hands grab at my arms. My injuries scream loudly as broken bones grind together and Iâm forced to put weight on my broken ankle.
I very nearly pass out so I bite into my tongue, forcing myself to focus.
âIs this the right place?â Paul stands next to me as the wind drifts around us, carrying smells of the city that barely breach the constant copper stink thatâs clouded my lungs. âYou hid the drugs here?â
âYes.â I nod, gazing up at the dry cleaners Iâve brought them to. Itâs a small business under my control. Once Paul revealed heâd been keeping us underneath a construction site in the middle of the city, I figured this was the closest location. âTheyâre inside.â
I attempt to step forward but he stops me with one hand, clicking his tongue at his guards. Three of them break away and head inside. âLike I said, I donât want any surprises,â Paul says.
I glance at Brooke. Sheâs struggling to stay upright but her eyes are more alert than before. In the light of the outside world, I get a better look at her. Her skin is pale, her bruises dark and ugly. It breaks my heart as I take in each wound I couldnât save her from. Her eyes meet mine, the corners of her lips twitching briefly. Before I can return the smile, Paul grabs me by the elbow and drags me inside as his men file out to report that the place is empty.
âAlright, where the fuck are they?â Paul demands, shoving me inside. I stumble and catch the end of the counter with a grunt, wincing as pain lances up my forearm.
âNeed the laptop,â I say, indicating to one sitting near the register.
âFor what?â Paul asks, unholstering his gun.
âDo you think Iâm going to blow you up or something?â I snort. âI need to unlock a safe and it has to be done through the laptop. Or do you want to try?â I glare at him and a beat of uncertainty flashes in his eyes. He uses the gun to point at the laptop.
âGo on then.â
It takes all my strength not to look at Brooke as I hobble forward. I have to use the counter for support, but soon the laptop is in my hands, and I quickly type in a few search words. A bunch of articles flash up on the screen as Paul walks around to stand next to me.
âWhat the fuck is this?â he asks, breathing over my shoulder.
âThatâs where your drugs are,â I mutter bitterly, clicking on one of the articles to enlarge the picture of Brookeâs burned-down flower shop. âYou fucking destroyed your own product, asshole.â
âIs this some kind of joke?â Paul snarls. âWhat the fuck are you talking about?â
As he talks, I slip my hand under the counter and grab the first bottle I can find. âThe drugs were there, Paul. You destroyed them. You, in your infinite wisdom, destroyed the only thing that mightâve saved you from the Murphys. I know they will do anything to prevent a war with us, if only to keep someone like you from running around with so much fucking freedom. And I hope they give you the slowest death imaginable!â
I lift my hand after unscrewing the cap of the bottle, glimpsing the label just as I throw the bleach into Paulâs eyes. He stumbles back with a scream and I glance at Brooke.
âRun!â I yell, then throw myself forward and tackle Paul through a rack of clothing. We land together, and pain shocks my body into submission for a few precious seconds, before my desire to give Brooke as much time as possible to run kicks in. A newfound energy surges through me, and as Paul screams against the burning, stinging bleach, I crawl on top of him and seal my hands around his throat. I lack the strength to puncture his windpipe with my thumbs but press as hard as I can.
I maintain the upper hand until he throws out an elbow and catches me on the side of my broken ribs. I cry out but refuse to release him. He punches me in the face and gut, but still I try to strangle him. I latch on until he surges upward and flips our position, sending me crashing into a table. The world tips and blood sprays from my mouth as he punches me. I punch him back and drive my elbow into his shoulder, then I brace on my good leg and throw my whole body back into him.
He stumbles and falls, tripping me up at the same time. Back on the floor, I grab a handful of his hair and slam his head into the ground repeatedly before he grabs at my broken knee and my stomach roils at the surge of white-hot agony. Still, I grapple with him, trying to take him down. Another punch to the jaw and Iâm losing momentum until I hear Brooke scream.
No. Sheâs not supposed to be here! She was supposed to run!
I scramble off Paul and stumble through the clothing rack in time to hear a gunshot. For a moment, I think Iâve died as the thought of Brooke being shot enters my mind.
I blink and see a guard crumpling to the floor, dead. He lands in front of Brooke who stands near the door, shaking like a leaf with a gun in her hands. Two more guards lay unconscious at her feet, a fire extinguisher on the ground nearby.
âBrooke! You were supposed to run!â
âI couldnât leave you,â she says, then raises the gun at me, her eyes wide.
Paul is on me a second later, wrapping his arms around me like a shield. I struggle, unable to gain leverage. Then Paulâs gun presses against my back.
âDrop the gun, bitch, or Iâll kill your boyfriend!â
âKill him and I kill you,â Brooke calmly replies.
The thought of dying and leaving Brooke alone to face Paul terrifies me, so instead of trying to wrestle free, I cling to the arm wrapped around me.
âShoot me!â
âWhat?â Paul and Brooke ask in unison.
âShoot me! Or shoot him but just shoot Brooke! You canât let him get away!â
âBut Iâll hit you!â
âShoot!â I scream as Paul suddenly starts trying to get away from me. I cling to him with the last of my strength as Paul raises his gun, aiming right at Brooke.
âBrooke! Shoot him!â
A single gunshot explodes through the air.