Page 13

C hapter 13

Grey

“Look at that,” Naya breathes out as we approach the old train tracks leading to my childhood home.

We’re closer to the main square now since she insisted on seeing more of where I grew up. It’s a small town, isolated from the rest of the world, with my childhood home on the outskirts. The town square hosts little shops and cafés, but I won’t take her there. Not when our lives are in so much danger.

Following her gaze, I see a wet piece of paper lying in a puddle. It rained heavily before, leaving our clothes damp, though they’ve mostly dried by now.

“What’s that?” I ask, not sure what could be so interesting about a drenched scrap of paper.

I watch as Naya crouches down, leaning closer to the puddle. She reaches a hand toward it, eyebrows drawn in contemplation of what it is she’s focusing on.

“Do you see that poster?”

I nod, though she cannot see me with her back turned.

“The illustration looks eerily like Grimhill Manor,” she mumbles.

“Looks like any other old building.”

She shakes her head, her chestnut brown hair shifting with the motion, some strands falling over one shoulder. “No, I’d recognize it anywhere.”

“Redeemed.” I read the title aloud, attempting to make out the waterlogged letters on the poster that’s soaked through.

“I saw a poster like this when we were buying groceries.”

She straightens up once more, still gazing down at the poster and the murky water around it.

“Probably just an advertisement,” I suggest, trying to dismiss the unease creeping into me at what she’s implying.

She turns to me then, her mismatched eyes drawing me into their depths.

“It’s too similar to Grimhill Manor,” she insists as she takes my hand in hers.

“Odd,” I answer, with a knot of worry forming at the bottom of my chest.

As we continue our walk back to my childhood home, the sense of unease lingers.

“Very odd, indeed.”

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NIGHTFALL COMES WITH ITS overwhelming darkness, far from civilization. Naya is sound asleep in the rickety bed, her breathing steady and deep. I know I won’t risk waking her when I leave. Because I have to leave—not only because I’ve finally found a way to contact the person Vortex mentioned, but also because we need more money if we’re ever going to survive. This is the quickest way.

I’m out of the house as soon as I can, sticking to the shadows of the trees and buildings to avoid detection, while I make my way to the other side of the town. The streets are just as filthy as they used to be, and when I’m far inside the town, having turned three lefts and five rights—as I’d memorized—I finally reach the crumbling apartment building, looking as if it might collapse any second.

Fear has no place in me as I take a few steps toward it. He knows I’m coming, though I never told him when, wanting to catch him off guard, just in case he tried anything.

I steel my spine, shaking off the nerves as I knock on the door. It creaks open just an inch, held by a chain, and a single dark eye peers out at me, unblinking.

“Who are you?” he demands gruffly.

“Fury. We spoke on the phone.”

The door closes without another word before swinging open again, fully this time. I step inside, greeted by the pungent smell of weed and decay. The walls are grimy, and the man’s posture is hunched slightly as he pinches a cigar between his fingers, though I doubt it’s anything legal.

“It’s late,” he grunts.

“Didn’t think it’d matter.” I nod at the open bottles, scattered pills, and half-eaten snacks on the coffee table, all indicating that he wasn’t sleeping and I didn’t wake him.

He grunts again in irritation before leading me to the kitchen. It’s in even worse shape than the rest of the place, with cupboards barely hanging on and the wood scratched. The stench here is stronger, forcing my nose to scrunch despite my efforts to hide my obvious disgust.

Taking a long drag from the cigar, he exhales its acrid smoke, before tossing it out the open window. Yet even the fresh air does little to clear the suffocating stench.

“You got the photos?” he asks, and I nod, bringing up the burner phone I got a few days ago for the money I earned at the underground club.

I bring it to him, having him look through the photo I took of Naya after our graveyard date. She wasn’t aware I took it—too occupied by nature’s beauty to notice the phone I’d bought. He transfers it to his computer, nodding toward the old camera before him. I step in front of it, and he snaps a picture of me, quickly transferring it to his computer as well.

Unease makes my skin crawl inside this apartment, knowing that my little doll is all alone at the old house without anyone to protect her. I swallow away the doubts, forcing myself to stay focused. I cannot show that I’m distracted, weak, or even scared. Men like the one before me feed on those emotions, like monsters sizing up their prey in a deadly sea.

He works swiftly, fingers moving with efficiency as he works the images and manipulates them as he wishes. It’s clear he has done this a thousand times over. I can do nothing but just stand there in silence, waiting for him to adjust the photos. My patience is wearing thin, but I know I can’t stress him on this.

The screen glow reflects in his wide, dilated pupils, but I still cannot make out what exactly it is he’s doing.

Minutes pass, feeling like hours, before he finally turns to a large industrial printer hidden beneath the desk. The machine comes to life with a buzz and hum, its sound echoing through the apartment. Slowly, sheets of paper emerge as the passports take place. When all papers are printed, he binds them together, slipping them into a cover for passports. Then, he applies a holographic sticker to both passports before using UV-reactive ink in the corners, all to make the passports look more legitimate.

Vortex told me this is the person you should go to if you want to disappear, and in this moment, I truly believe him. Relief washes over me at the possibility this gives.

I look around the room as he meticulously works, noticing the guns he has tucked away in a corner, nearly invisible. An idea hits me.

“Can I buy one of those?” I nod toward the weapon.

He raises an eyebrow, taking me in with narrowed eyes. As if deciding I’m worthy of it, he grimly nods. “It’ll come at a hefty price.”

“I’ll take it,” I reply, no hesitation in my words.

A gun could give me the possibility to protect me and Naya better.

Two hours later, and I’m starting to get really fucking bored waiting for the passports. “Are you done soon?”

“If you’re going to fucking complain, you can fuck off and come back in a few days,” he grunts, annoyance filtering through his voice.

I roll my eyes but bite my tongue, waiting for him as he inspects his work and flips through the pages. Reaching out a hand, I get the hint and take out the bundle of money of what he’d charge before he gives me the gun and two passports that hold mine and Naya’s soon to come freedom.

“Take them and fuck off,” he mutters as he lights another cigar.

I pocket the passports, storing them for safe-keeping. I will not let anything happen to those two items, feeling the comfort of their weight on me.

The trek to the underground club is made with light steps. They let me through immediately this time, and there’s no sign of Vortex as I enter the loud basement, where the music pumps through my veins and heightens the adrenaline spiking through me. The crowd is cheering and screaming, betting and losing as they watch the fights take place.

Time seems to fly by as I step into the ring, facing my opponent for the night. We begin slowly, each of us shifting on our toes in silent calculation of who’s going to strike the other first. He swings the first blow, which I quickly block with my arms. The fight becomes a dance of hitting, blocking, and sidestepping, before a punch lands square on my face. Pain radiates through my cheek as I spit out blood, quickly refocusing on my opponent. I kick him in the chest, sending him sprawling, and follow up with a barrage of punches to his face, reveling in his loud groans. He retaliates by swiping my leg out from under me, and I hit my head on the floor with a thud, making the room spin. I scramble back to my feet, ignoring the agony, narrowly dodging his next attack.

A smile breaks out on my lips, as the monster within me finds peace in the bloodshed, pain, and adrenaline.

“What the fuck you smiling at, psycho?” the man shouts, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he looks at me like I’m crazy. I feel like I am, but in this moment, I couldn’t give a single fuck.

This is a game, one I intend to win at every cost because there’s no other way out for us.

My opponent tries to deliver a swift uppercut, but I see it coming, sidestepping as I feel the rush of air from his fist washing over my ear. I counter with a jab to his ribs, the impact reverberating through my knuckles and making my already bruised hands bleed more. The pain is a welcome reprieve.

I pivot on my foot before I drive a hook to his midsection that has him doubling over, the sound of the crowd roaring fading into the background.

I deliver a quick kick to his knee that has him falling to the ground, head hitting the floor with a harder thud than when my head hit it. My breathing is fast and hard as I look at my opponent struggling to get to his feet, and when seconds pass and he doesn’t rise, I know the fight is over. My fists clench and unclench with relief as the referee moves in, and I get the money I’m owed.

Victory is mine.

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WALKING HOME IS HARDER than I first thought after such an intense fight. My head throbs, the world spins, and I can’t shake the feeling of being watched, shadows seeming to lurk behind. It feels as if someone is following me.

I keep walking, each step feeling heavier and taking longer than it should as I check my pocket to ensure the passports, gun, and bundle of money I earned are still there. With the passports secured, my next task is to figure out how to take out the man Vortex told me to.

It won’t be easy, and I can’t tell Naya, but I have no other choice. Vortex is dangerous, especially if you get on his bad side. The gun might help, but I know it won’t make this job any easier.

I stagger forward, looking over my shoulder, only to see that no one is there. Despite that, the feeling of being watched lingers. As I approach the street stretching far ahead, eventually leading to the abandoned train track, I suddenly stumble and fall to the ground, vision blurring. I cough and glance up, trying to focus on the spinning world above.

Surprise thrums through me as I see Vortex, a sneer etched on his face, flanked by two equally ripped men that I don’t recognize.

“I changed my mind,” he sneers, an evil smirk on his lips that has unease crippling me.

I look at him, unable to form the words to ask what the fuck he’s talking about.

“I decided two days would be enough to handle him. You didn’t deliver,” he looms above me, spit flying out of his mouth as he speaks.

“I didn’t fucking know! You said I had five,” I cough when he punches my face, making my head fly to the side from the sheer impact. I don’t think to reach for the gun—they would just disarm me in seconds.

“Like I said, I changed my fucking mind.”

He jerks his head toward me, and the other two men approach. Without another word, they pounce on me, fists raining down. I’m unable to do anything to fight back as I’m lying on the ground. They’re three against one, and the odds aren’t in my fucking favor. Sickness spreads through me at the thought, irritation and anger twisting inside me. I manage to kick one of them away, but the other grabs my leg and twists it until I grunt from the pain. He releases it before it can break, but the nausea from the agony has already begun to set.

Life flashes before my eyes, and I do my best to fight them off me, but I stand no chance against three grown fighters. They throw punch after punch with disdain, spitting and kicking at me mercilessly. I can do nothing but endure their brutal assault, feeling utterly pathetic for being this weak.

“You shouldn’t have fucking come back, Fury,” Vortex growls, disdain evident. “This is our territory.”

One final punch sends me reeling, darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision. All I can see are the clouds up in the darkened sky spinning around, my eyes unable to keep open as I drift off into unconsciousness. I don’t know how long I lie there, my nose bleeding and my entire body aching. It must have been a while, because they’ve long since left, leaving me for dead with no intention of keeping me alive.

The clouds shift, drifting with the moon, while the trees whistle and dogs bark far off in the distance. It must take hours before I manage to roll onto my stomach, straining to listen for any sounds around me. They’re far off, and I summon every ounce of strength to rise, stumbling the last mile toward the abandoned train tracks in the hope of making it home.

Unconsciousness creeps into the edges of my vision once again, and I know I won’t be able to handle it much further.

No one follows me, but the pain spreads through me in agonizing waves, causing me to lose my footing. Darkness descends as I collapse onto the cold, rusted tracks. In those final moments, as consciousness slips away entirely, regret overwhelms me for not informing Naya of where I was headed.