Page 37 of Poison Sun

We get to the end of the park, he hails a taxi, and we slide into the back. He pulls me into the middle of the seat and wraps his arm around my shoulders, so my body is pressed against his.

It takes everything in me to not shudder.

“Where to?” the driver asks, his eyes meeting Lucas’s in the rearview mirror.

Lucas gives an address to a street I’ve never heard of.

“Where’s that?” I ask him.

“The Lower East Side,” he says. “It’s grittier than what you’re accustomed to uptown, but you’ll adjust. Especially since you’ll be with me.”

As the taxi merges into traffic, I sneak a glance behind us.

Yannick—the warrior who partners with Abigail on patrol at night—is trailing us in a navy sedan that blends with the other cars on the street. With the trucker hat shielding his face, it would be impossible to recognize him as one of Damien’s if someone wasn’t looking for it.

There are others in the back seat, although thanks to the tinted windows, no one outside the car can see who they are.

“Lucas,” I begin, needing to distract him so he doesn’t realize we’re being followed. “Once we’re there, what’s the plan?”

“I have resources,” he says. “Eyes and ears hidden throughout the city. You’re going to be okay.”

“And if Damien comes looking for me?”

“Then let him come.” His hand reaches for mine, his smile sharp and deadly. “He’ll find that taking you from me is more trouble than he bargained for.”

He underestimates Damien.

And it’s going to be the death of him.

I continue talking to him as the taxi weaves its way through the streets, determined to distract.

Eventually, the Lower East Side greets us with its gritty embrace. The buildings here, tightly packed and rising like jagged teeth against the skyline, wear their age not as a sign of neglect, but as a badge of resilience. Graffiti covers nearly every available surface, turning the neighborhood into a canvas that tells stories of struggle, resistance, and unyielding spirit.

Lucas watches me as I soak it in.

“This is the heart of the city,” he says. “It beats strongest where the polish fades and the darkness shows. It’s raw, unapologetic, and real. Something you won’t find uptown.”

We finally stop in front of an old brick building that rises higher than the others. One of the affordable housing options on the edges of the city.

“This is it,” he says, gesturing to the building with a sweep of his arm.

“Why here?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Because people underestimate places like this,” he says. “They see decay where I see strength. They see despair where I see the will to endure.” He pauses, then adds, “It’s the perfect place to hide in plain sight.”

He pays the driver, and I don’t have to look over my shoulder to verify that Yannick successfully followed us. Because Damien made it, too. I can feel his determination and focus through the bond.

Lucas leads me through the building’s heavy front door and into a dimly lit lobby, the bulbs casting more shadow than light.

“Come,” he says, heading toward the stairwell. “You’ll stay in my apartment, with me.”

I don’t want to go.

But if I stop now, it could ruin everything.

They won’t be long, I think as I follow him up the concrete steps.

He moves fast, and we go up and up, until we must be close to the top floor of the building.

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