Page 53 of Invisible Scars
The man steps out of the shadows, big and burly with a few days’ worth of black stubble on his face and green eyes devoid of any emotion, throwing the half-smoked cigarette against the wall and smiling at me with yellow teeth.
Something’s off. This man isn’t here to collect a debt, or he would have already asked for money, bargained with me. My instincts scream at me to run, so I stupidly turn my back on him with full intent on leaving the alley.
That’s when I hear it. It’s like a zipper being pulled up, but not exactly, and before I can flee, I’m jerked back by my throat by something slim and hard that stings against my skin, tightening to cut off my air supply.
“This is a message from Daniel Harlow,” the man with the dead eyes says in his sandpaper voice, crossing the cord so it’s cutting into my nape as well.
The first thought that crosses my mind is that if I die in this dark alley, Jonah will never forgive himself. He’ll never bounce back. He’ll succumb to that darkness always brimming under the surface, and it will kill everything beautiful in him.
If you’re attacked from behind, use the hard parts of your body on his soft and fragile parts. Your head on his face, your elbows into ribs and stomach. Knees, Effie, as hard as you can. Then run.
But this man is a pro, standing too far away for me to reach, and the wrap of the cord ensures I can’t turn around.
You cannot die, Effie!I command my panicking brain, forcing what little calm I still have in the far corners of my mind forward, jogging that part of it that’s been solving complex and sensitive problems for over a decade instead of that part that just wants to get away fast.
I push down the instinct to squirm and pull forward. Instead, I dig my heels into the pavement and push backward as hard as I can, my back slamming into my attacker’s chest, causing him to stumble into the alley wall and giving me enough room to push the fingers of one hand through the cord and provide relief from the pressure on my windpipe.
Summoning every bit of fight in me, I deliver a forceful elbow into his stomach. He bends over slightly with a pained grunt, but before I can deliver another blow, he flips our positions so I’m pressed into the wall, and the cord is digging into my fingers.
“I take no pleasure in doing this, Miss Teitelbaum,” he says with a grave voice. “When your brother came to me with instructions from Harlow and an envelope with double the pay, he had a few choice words to say about you. Quite the oversharer, your brother. I enjoyed taking his life slowly. But you, I would prefer to finish quickly and painlessly.” He pulls the cord tighter, cutting further through my fingers. “So please stop fight—”
His words are cut off with a loud thud, followed by both of us crashing to the ground.
My entire body shakes as I suck in as much air as I can with wheezing breaths.
“Effie.” Milly crouches in front of me, catching my shoulders. “Shit, Effie, look at me.”
I lift my hand to my face. It’s bloody and I can’t bend my fingers.
“Don’t look at that, sweetie,” Milly says in a soft voice, pulling off her shirt to wrap around my wound. “The ambulance is on the way. They’ll take good care of you at the hospital.”
“Jonah?” I mouth, but no sound comes out.
“I’ll call Micah. He’ll get Jonah, okay?” Milly puts her arms around me in a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry, Effie.”
I want to ask her what she has to be sorry about; she saved my life, but my throat’s too swelled to speak.
Sirens blur in the background, and medics and uniformed cops come running our way. Milly helps me up, and it’s only when she ushers me around a large object sprawled at our feet that I realize she rendered my assailant unconscious.
Tears well in my eyes, and a choked sob echoes forced itself out of my pained throat. Milly tightens her hold on me, and I force myself to stay standing. What happens next is a blur. Milly and the medics help me onto a gurney and rush me to the hospital while she relays the events to a uniformed officer.
It feels like hours before the doctors are done checking and patching me up. By the time I’m in recovery, the adrenaline’s faded, and I can barely keep my eyes open.
The sudden sound of the door flying open makes me jump, and my heart races in my chest.
“Effie?” Jonah charges into the room, his gaze panicked as he rushes to me, pulling me into his embrace. I clutch his shirt with my unharmed hand, soaking it with tears while trying to tell him I’m sorry but unable to make more than a small whining sound. “You should have told me, Effie. I would have been there. I would have broken every bone in the fucker’s body before he could have laid a hand on you.”
By the end of Johan’s sentence, his words are a low and angry seethe, and I wish I could tell him that I did it to protect him. The man in the alley was a professional hitman. He would have seen Jonah coming from a mile away.
“Is Lorenzo Ricci behind this? Is this over Abe?” Jonah asks, and I pull back, looking up at him in confusion.
“I haven’t told them yet.” Milly’s voice comes from the doorway, and she walks in with the rest of the Peaks at her heels.
“Told us what?” Jonah asks in a low and dangerous voice, and Micah immediately stands between him and Milly, giving Jonah a warning glare.
“This wasn’t about Abe,” Milly says, nudging Micah aside. “This was a message from Daniel Harlow.”
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