Page 160 of Cara

It should concern me how composed I am as I maneuver through the peeling sheds, abandoned construction sites, and deserted buildings to avoid detection, unraveling the world around me like a labyrinth I’ve already mastered. Anyunexpected noise causes me to retreat into the shadows, letting the rain rinse the sweat off my skin before I quietly approach the pathway next to the warehouse. The crashing waves against the dock become louder as I stealthily circle the back of the building, looking for an entrance.

The majority of windows are inoperable. All entrances are heavily guarded, and the men are armed, a sure indication of unrest. While my body initially suffered from the plunge into the Hudson, every step I take is carefully calculated, executed with precision to get me from one place to another without drawing attention.

Lifting my arms above my head, summoning strength I shouldn’t even have, my hands grip a cracked window, pulling myself up only to discover that the glass won’t budge any further. A dead end, and there’s nothing to land on except the ground or the slanted metal roofing.

My boots skim the edge of the roof as I grip the slick walls to avoid slipping.

While down below, a guard shouts to one of his comrades, I sneak across the rafters and slip through the bars in the stairs, ducking to avoid being seen.

The door ahead—I can reach it. But the lock chain tethered around the silver handles tells me I can’t.

It doesn’t slow me down.

Another entry. I just need another way?—

My gaze locks in on a cellar door situated on a raised hill that slopes down to the docks. The double doors are closed, but there’s a window carved into the sloping exterior, and it’s banging against the gusts.

That’s it.

I slip down and crawl through the dense hedges, making a dash for the doors. I carefully inch the window open and grasp the edge, hoisting myself through the narrow opening feet first. As my boots make contact with the ground, thesound resonates loudly in the void, but nothing happens. I’m greeted only by calm darkness.

With my gun leveled at my eyes, I plunge into the depths of obscurity, past caring what happens to me. I want to kill. I want to make them suffer. Any of them. Innocent or not.

The further I walk, the more I recall. I’ve been here before. Years ago, when this particular part of the warehouse housed rooms to rent. Knowing my father and how cruel he did business, I have no doubt there are horrors these walls could tell.

Rodents squeak in the darkness I navigate, scurrying at my heels. The only source of light comes from that damn window. It casts my shadow onto the walls as I stalk through the empty basement, trying to find a way out from below ground.

Piercing through the silence like splintered glass, a smothered scream of agony echoes through every empty corridor. It lasts only seconds, but in them, my legs have taken flight. I’m running. Goddamn sprinting toward that haunting sound.

Oh, God.

Oh myGod.

My hands test doors recklessly, finding only emptiness. Abandonment. I’d been calm, but that scream—from the only voice that matters—it unravels me swiftly.

My once steady hands tremble uncontrollably as I wrench desperately at doorknobs. Carried on a chilling draft, another muffled cry pierces the air and sends me hurtling through the darkness, crashing against a wall, clawing for an escape.

Some way to reach him.

And then I see it. A door swinging, shining storm light into the room as thunder echoes across the distant city skyline. One step into the storm, and concrete stairs are leading me to the upper levels. I'm sprinting at full speed, climbing the winding flights. The storm lashes against me with rain and wind strong enough to sting, forcing me to clear my eyes.

When they reopen, I have just enough time to glimpse thesilhouette of a man in the shadows before raising my weapon to fire. A silencer muffles the gunshot, concealing the act from the unsuspecting guards on the docks. In seconds, another one rounds the corner, freezing when he spots the corpse sprawled on a flight of steps before he’s confronted with the muzzle of my gun, losing his life, too.

And I feelnothing.

No pleasure. No shame. I'm moving on as if I never saw them, as if their lives held no importance at all.

When I reach the top, gasping for breath, I lean against the wall to glance through the windows dewy with condensation, drawn in by the sounds of laughter from within.

Laughter.

My eyes twitch.

Theylaughwhile my husband suffers.

It’s enough. Enough to pull at the last strings of my sanity.

Reaffirming my hold on the revolver, slipping a fighting blade from my harness with the other hand, I lodge my foot into the door, kicking it open.