Page 56 of Penance

“Spoke too soon, Princess,” Max smirks, glancing up at the mouth of the alley where the footfalls encroach.

His hand reaching down for me, I shove up to my feet, my good hand gripping his, he tugs me forward. Hand in hand we sprint down the dark backstreet. The shadows becoming more than our friends as we run blind. Exhilaration tears through me, my legs pump harder, moving me faster. Our booted feet give us away, not that it’d be hard to find us, it’s a straight alleyway. Both of us crouch low as a few lone shots are fired, weaving wildly down the narrowing passageway. Max’s phone screen lights up as he places it against his ear, ducking and diving as we trample over black bin bags.

“Shooters!” he barks into the phone, his deep, commanding rumble making me fist his hand harder. “I don’t know, enough,” he grunts into the phone, narrowly avoiding a low angled shutter.

“Eight,” I pant, “at least eight,” I tell him, guessing the question from his mystery caller.

He glances over his shoulder, his shadowed turquoise eyes gleaming with pride.

“You hear that? Yeah. She’s fine. I will,” he confirms into the mouthpiece, shoving his phone back in his jacket pocket. “There’s a wall coming up, I’m gunna boost you,” he glances back at me as we continue to sprint forward. “You’ll have to drop down the other side and roll. Think you can do that, princess?” he smirks.

“Of course I can fucking do that, arsehole,” I bite out, gritting my teeth.

“Good. Tuck your bad hand and show me them moves, baby girl,” he chuckles darkly as he begins to slow.

The echo of pounding feet behind us sends a thrill through me, it’s all about the chase and it’s been weeks too long without one. I’m not worrying too much about the guns, this is London after all, the Old Bill will be all over it like a rash and we donotneed that right now.

“Ready?” Max barks over his shoulder as I quickly draw up alongside him.

“Ready!” I confirm as he cups his hands, fingers laced together, dipping low.

Before I even think it through, I trustingly jump into his hand and he launches me into the air. My feet scrabbling to make purchase, my good arm screaming as I heave myself up. My nails tearing into the brick, my fingers curling over the top of the wall. Max pops off a reluctant shot, forcing the echo of our pursuers to slow. Not enough, but it helps. Sweat rolls down my spine, my jacket dropping from my shoulders, thunking to the ground behind me.

Gritting my teeth, I slowly manage to heave myself up. My arm shaking so wildly I fear I’m about to fall when I find a foot hold. I breathe a rapid sigh of relief, swinging both legs up and over, but I don’t drop down. I rock forward, my belly teetering on the walls edge, I stretch my arm down.

“Maddox!” I shout at him, not giving a fuck about being heard.

They know where we are whether they can fully see us in the dark or not. Max snaps his attention to me from his shielded spot behind a bin.

“Drop down, Lala!” he screams at me as a bulletjustmisses me.

“Come on, Max!” I bellow at him, my voice cracking. “I’m not leaving you, hurry the fuck up!” I shout at him as our attackers move in.

Max growls wildly as he leaps at me, scooping up my jacket in the process, slinging it over the wall, I grip his hand in mine, leaning back further to heave him up with me. His use of both arms obviously making it easier. I pull back as far as I can, tugging his weight with me, gravity on our side as it pulls me towards the ground. He kicks a foot over and then we’re falling. A ten-foot drop feels like fifty if you fall wrong, so I tuck my arms and roll. My shoulder slamming unforgivingly into the cracked pavement. My body rolling with the momentum of a free-falling sledgehammer, feeling every corner of upturned paving slabs dig and gouge at me. Max reaches out as we both roll, clawing me into his chest, rolling us to a stop, him above me.

Both breathing heavily, hearing shouts from the other side of the wall. His solid form blocking the night sky from view as he looks back to where we just came from. I glance to my left too, my chest brushing his, my injured hand trapped between us. We both pant to catch our breath. I look up at him then, a sigh of relief pouring from him as he looks down at me. Hands braced either side of my head, our lips dangerously close. His warm, sweet breath fanning over my skin, raven-black hair falling into his eyes. I lick my lips, my tongue catching his bottom lip as I swallow. Raising my hand, my fingers hesitant, I brush his hair back from his face.

“You good, Lala?” Max breathes.

I nod, “we should go,” I murmur, glancing back to the dead-end alleyway.

Knowing it’s only a matter of minutes before they circle around. Although they will have my whole security team to get through first. Max cups my cheek, keeping himself off my body, one hand still planted firmly to the ground. I inhale a small, shaky breath as his thumb brushes my cheek.

“You’re not hurt?” he murmurs almost silently.

His eyes flicking between my own, his blue-green gaze running over my face.

“I’m fine,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “We need to go.”

He nods, a soft sigh falling from his lips. He pushes to his knees, taking me with him as he gets to his feet. I move to grab my jacket, Max taking it from my hand, dropping it back over my shoulders. The back of our hands brush and like magnets our fingers snap together, interlocking. We hurry quickly down another side street, most of the street lamps out. The bulbs likely having been smashed out by kids, or they’ve died out through old age and the council just can’t be bothered to replace them. We slip between parked cars, turning left then right, then another right.

Deep maroon walls, high, semicircle windows, a long, royal blue sign finally announces our arrival at Chalk Farm tube station. We jump the turnstiles, our booted feet pounding down the steep concrete stairs as our hands rejoin. The rush of hot air from the tunnels blows against us as we descend deep into the underground. I glance up at the overhead timing board as we hit the empty platform. Orange letters running across the screen, informing us the next train is in one minute. We hurry to the farthest end of the platform, ducking into an alcove as Max checks his phone.

The white tiled walls an ashen shade of grey from years of fumes. The thick heat chokes me as we finally stop to silently catch our breath. No matter the time of year these underground tube stations are always stifling heat. I avoid trains like the plague for that very reason. Plus, being stuck in the sweaty underground with only one fire escape route sets my teeth on edge like I’ve been scoffing sweets. I don’t like being trapped.

My skin prickles uncomfortably as anxiety spikes through me. My chest tightening like a fist to the heart. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying to breathe through my nose.

“No signal,” Max breathes, and I hear the creak of plastic like he’s squeezing the phone in his hand in frustration. “Not that I thought there would be,” he sighs, the zip of his pocket hissing as he locks the phone away.

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