Chapter 7 - ROOFTOP FLIGHT
The gap between my apartment building and the neighboring complex was only about four feet wide, but it looked like a canyon in the dark, with a five-story drop into the concrete alley below.
"Jump!" Julian yelled, reaching the roof.
I didn't think. I just grabbed Theo's hand, took two running steps, and launched us across the abyss. We hit the gravel roof of the next building hard, rolling to absorb the impact. I scraped my elbows raw, but we were across.
Julian took a running leap just as a man appeared on the fire escape behind him, raising a rifle. Julian cleared the gap, landing heavily on his bad shoulder. He bit back a scream, rolling onto his back and firing his last two rounds across the divide. The man on the fire escape ducked back.
"Move! The roof access door!" Julian gasped, scrambling to his feet.
We ran across the gravel, the rain washing the blood from Julian’s arm, turning his shirt entirely pink. I found the heavy metal door to the stairwell of the neighboring building. It was locked from the inside.
"Step back," Julian said. He didn't have bullets left, but he threw his entire weight against the door. Once. Twice. The old lock groaned, then gave way with a sharp crack.
We spilled into the dry, dusty stairwell, plunging down the steps in darkness. We didn't stop running until we hit the ground floor and burst out the back exit into a narrow, trash-filled alley.
We were soaked, bleeding, and exhausted. I leaned against a dumpster, trying to drag oxygen into my burning lungs. Theo was clutching my hand so tightly I lost feeling in my fingers.
Julian pulled a burner phone from his pocket. It had survived the rain. He dialed a number, his fingers leaving bloody smears on the keys.
"It's me," he said into the phone, his voice steadying, regaining that terrifying, absolute authority. "I'm alive. Russo made a mistake tonight. He didn't finish the job. Gather the loyalists. Meet me at the shipyard."
He hung up and looked at me. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a cold, hard reality.
"You should go, Delia," he said quietly. "Go to the police. Tell them I forced you. Tell them you were a hostage. You will be safe."
I looked at him, then down at Theo, who was staring at me with wide, terrified eyes. I thought about my ruined diner, my destroyed apartment, and the fact that Russo’s men had seen my face.
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"If I go to the cops, Russo’s men in the department will make sure I don't survive holding," I said, wiping wet hair out of my eyes. "I'm in this now. So, we're going to the shipyard. But you're buying me a new espresso machine."
Julian stared at me for a long moment, then, against all odds, let out a rough, genuine laugh. "Deal."
