Page 78 of Auctioned Innocence
“I know somewhere,” Dante says as I adjust the mirrors and familiarize myself with the controls. “A contact even Marco doesn’t know about. Someone who can help us go dark.”
“How dark?” I ask, pulling onto the highway. The city spreads out around us, millions of lights representing millions of people who have no idea that their world just shifted on its axis.
“Ghost dark. New identities, clean papers, money that can’t be traced.” He leans back against the headrest, exhaustion finally showing in the lines around his eyes. “It’ll mean leaving everything behind. Everyone.”
The weight of that hits me like a physical blow. Leave Marco? Leave Mom and Dad? Leave the only life I’ve ever known?
But then I think of Maisie’s blood pooling on the ground.
Of the other girls—did Jessica make it out?
Is Ava safe?
What about Natalie, Zoe, Kira?—and I know there’s no choice.
“And then?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“Then we hunt them down. All of them. Viktor, the traitor, everyone who helped them.” His voice carries a promise of violence that should scare me but doesn’t. “We make them pay for every life they took, every girl they sold, every family they destroyed.”
I remember Maisie’s empty eyes.
Our burning safe houses.
Elena and Stella having to run again because someone decided our family needed to be punished.
“They’ll expect us to keep running,” I say, pressing harder on the accelerator.
The speedometer climbs past eighty, past ninety. “To hide until the heat dies down.”
“Yes.” His hand finds mine on the gear shift, warm and solid and real. “Which is exactly why we’re going to make them regret ever touching our family.”
Red and blue lights flash in my rearview mirror, growing larger.
Police.
Or people pretending to be police, which in our world amounts to the same threat.
“How far to your contact?” I ask, calculating speed versus distance, wondering if we can outrun them without drawing more attention.
“Five hours. If we can lose our tail.”
I check our weapons—Dante’s pistol, my liberated shotgun, a backup piece Vincent left in the glove compartment.
Our fuel gauge shows three-quarters full.
The growing light on the horizon tells me dawn is still hours away, giving us the cover of darkness.
No going back now. No safe houses, no family backup, no cavalry coming to save us.
Just us against whatever Viktor can throw at us.
“Then let’s disappear,” I say, taking the next exit at full speed, tires squealing as we merge into late-night traffic. “And make them pay for everything they’ve done.”
Behind us, the police lights grow smaller in the distance. We’re ghosts now, invisible, untraceable.
And ghosts, I’m learning, can be very dangerous when they want revenge.
The phone buzzes one last time—a message from Marco:Other girls safe. Jessica shaken but unharmed. Ava wounded but fighting. Natalie catatonic. Zoe in medical care. Kira disappeared during extraction—still searching. Stay alive, little sister. We’ll find our way back to each other.
