Aro
“I’m not dead yet,” I gasp. “Not yet.”
I pull at every door in the alleyway, knowing I’m wasting my time. It’s late. Everywhere is closed.
But one gives way, and I don’t bother to wonder why. Slipping quickly inside, I search for a lock to keep the police out, but it’s dark and all I feel is a deadbolt as my fingers graze the keyhole.
Shit. I choke back my fear, breathing hard as I back away from the door, watching it and knowing. They’re going to come through. They will. I don’t think they saw where I went, but they’ll figure it out. This is it.
Matty. Bianca. Everything will hurt them, and I won’t be there.
“Check every door!” I hear a muffled shout.
I draw in a sharp breath, realizing they’re right outside. I stumble back, bumping into something, the legs of a table screeching across the floor.
I whip around, seeing I’m in some kind of kitchen just as a cop shouts, “Here!”
No.
I bolt, pushing around the steel worktable and past the ovens lining the wall, the lingering smell of cherries and sugar drifting around me. I dash through the two-way door, into the shop with coffee machines, a display case, and a counter—dishes, cups, and other supplies are stacked underneath.
Frosted. I catch the name of the bakery on one of the paper menus sitting by the register.
Racing to the front door, I yank at it, but it doesn’t open. I run to the windows, squeezing between small round tables, and hesitate, gauging whether I should use one of the chairs to break a window. But then lights flash, a cruiser’s lights approaching down the street, and I spin around, hiding myself behind the patch of wall between the windows.
“Goddammit,” I grit out.
The back door slams shut, and I hear a sharp voice bellow. “You have nowhere to go!” he says.
I stumble off to the side, my eyes planted on the two-way door. I shake my head, my eyes stinging.
“We’re coming through the door!” he warns. “Put your hands above your head! Say ‘okay’ if you understand.”
I back up, slamming into the wall, but my palms press against something smoother. Something cold.
I hear their feet shuffle, the walls closing in and at my back. There’s no way out. I drop my head, knowing Hugo was right. It was only a matter of time.
The hinges on the two-way door creak as the cops start to come, and I close my eyes, ready.
But then…my stomach drops, and I pop my eyes open as I fall backward.
What?
I gasp, a hand covering my mouth and an arm wrapping around my waist as my body is hauled backward, just as the kitchen door opens.
What the hell?
We stop, they hold me to their body, the entrance in front of me closes, and I watch as the cops enter the eatery, flashlights sca
No. I jerk away from the hand, but they hold me tight.