Page 38 of The Shadow Prince's Ruin
“Is there a problem?” A male voice asks, and I freeze, looking over Sylvan’s head, straight at one of the two cops buying fucking pretzels.
When did they even enter? I was so wrapped up in Sylvan, I didn’t notice. I feel my face flush as the colors of a police car loom on the edge of my vision, and my hand darts to my mask, but the other cop zeroes in on me, taking a sharp inhale.
“It’s him!”
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
This will be the most costly fucking meal I ever consumed.
Chapter 14
Hawk
Years of staring at the world through bars, years of concrete, steel, and men in identical uniforms flash before my eyes. The reek of the toilet in my cell might be only a memory, but right now it overpowers the fresh aroma of pretzels and coffee. And when I dash forward, grabbing a chair as I let the weight of my body carry me forward, all I can see is a future in a cage.
A future I should have done more to avoid.
The cops reach for their guns when I collide with them, swinging the seat of wood and metal. I hit something with a dull slam sounding like a head being stomped to death, and the force of the collision reverberates over my makeshift weapon, echoing in my muscles. The policewoman stumbles back toward Sylvan while the male cop’s eyes go wide. I face the muzzle of his 9mm SIG Sauer, but the chair pushes his hands up before he can pull the trigger. My stomach tightens at the burn of gunpowder, but when the bullet whistles in my left ear, I know we won’t getanother chance to scramble out of this mess. I need to put my full force into itnow.
I twist the chair without mercy. Bone cracks as the cop’s arm gives in under the pressure of steel, but he only falls when I slam my forehead against his face. I’ve smelled enough blood to know everyone’s is the same. Whether it’s a cop, an accountant caught doing financial crimes, or a ruthless killer. Inside we are all just meat and will break with enough pressure.
At least the old lady cowered under the counter and doesn’t intervene.
The female cop is dazed, she’s holding her head with one hand, but points her gun at Sylvan with the other.
He raises his hands, pale as snow, and shifts toward the counter. “Please, no, I was abducted! I’ve got nothing to do with him!”
It hurts worse than being stabbed with the dirty shank that should have ended my life weeks ago. As soon as she looks at me, assessing who the threat is, Sylvan grabs the container of cinnamon and throws the brown powder in her face. She starts coughing, the cloud of spice hovering around her like angry bees.
That’s my boy.
For a moment there, I was sure he’d turn on me after our argument, but he runs right to my side.
“Lucy! Stay down!” the male cop yells. At least he’s not being a hero. Good for him.
I kick his gun away and pull on Sylvan’s hand. It feels so good in mine, as though I was always meant to hold it.
“W-we… n-need… assistance…” the woman chokes into her radio, but I don’t listen.
I would slash through as many bodies as it would take if it meant freedom for myself and Sylvan, but at this point, the police know there’s a problem, and nothing I’d do here can change that.
“Get in,” I bark, sliding into the driver’s seat, and I back out of the parking space the moment Sylvan’s door closes. A car comes to an abrupt stop and hits its horn when I dash onto the street, cutting him off, but keeping our heads down is no longer a concern. Not with our survival on the line.
There isn’t that much traffic at this time, and the darkness aids me, making other vehicles easy to spot by their headlights as I speed past stoplights and change lanes on my way to—
“The pretzel woman. She’ll tell them where we’re headed. Fuck,” I grit through my teeth, slamming the wheel as my stomach sinks.
What the fuck should I do?
“Go there. Trust me. Go to The Rusty Stallion,” Sylvan says with so much conviction I struggle to question it.
I don’t have the time to reconsider. We’re speeding down a straight road, and I’ll either trust that my deranged twink elf boyfriend knows some secret hiding spot at this bar, or straight up ignore him and drive on in hopes of losing the cops.
I have a few heartbeats to make that decision, because we’re approaching the place and fast.
I only spot the old rusty road sign due to the bright mustard ad right next to it. A part of me wants to trust my own instinct and run like a mouse fleeing a bunch of cats through an unfamiliar labyrinth, but when Sylvan places his hand on my thigh, the decision is made for me.
