Page 161 of Rosetti Family New York
She doesn't. She takes off at full speed, faster than I thought she could go. I could close the distance, have my hands on her in a second if I wanted. I don't. I'm not trying to scare her. I just want to help. But she doesn't know that, doesn't know me, and she's never going to stop if I keep chasing her down like this. I put on a burst of speed, close enough to shout.
"Hold on!" I say. "I'm not going to hurt you."
My breath fogs the air between us. I feel like an idiot trying to talk to her while she's running for her life, but none of this makes any sense to me anyway. I'm making it up as I go.
"Stay away!" she yells, still moving, putting space between us.
She doesn't trust me, and why would she? She's just found a dead body in an alleyway and probably thinks I'm the murderer.
But I'm not about to let her go, not without knowing who she is, why she's here. Her breath is ragged now, and for a second, I think she's going to stop.
"I can help you!" I shout. She glances back, her eyes finding mine in the dark. Something flickers there, a change.
My heart hammers harder than it should for a simple chase. It's those eyes. They've gotten to me. Green like gemstones catching the weak streetlight. Even filled with fear, they're stunning, alive with a fire I rarely see in the people I deal with. It's been a long time since a woman affected me like this, especially one running away from me in terror. The wanting hits me like a physical blow. Not just to catch her, but to know her. To make those eyes look at me with something other than fear.
She believes me. Just a little bit, just enough to slow, to let me catch up to her. I don't touch her, not yet. She's got to come to me, got to trust me enough to let me in. I stop a few feet away, watching her from a safe distance. She's not sure, not sure about anything right now. But she's not running anymore. It's the opening I need. I take a step, slow and careful, like she's a wild animal I'm trying to coax into my hand. Her eyes are locked on me, and I can't look away.
"You're safe with me," I hear myself say, the words coming out gentler than I've spoken to anyone in years. I want to reach for her, to touch her face, to smooth back that wild hair, to feel if her skin is as soft as it looks under the harsh street lights. The urge is so unexpected, so unwelcome, that I clench my gloved fists at my sides to keep them still.
Then she bolts, gone as quick as the thought of her. She's across the street and into the night before I know what's happening.
But I know I'll find her again. I have to. Not just because she's a witness to what happened in that alley, but because for the first time in years, someone has made me feel something I thought was dead inside me. Something dangerous. Something I should know better than to chase.
My feet break into a run.
2
Sloane
The cold slices into me, brutal and sharp. My lungs burn, my legs scream for me to stop. I keep moving, flying down one street, veering into the next. Trash bags piled high along the sidewalks. Bicycles chained to the rusted fences of playgrounds. Streetlights burning white-hot against the dark. His footsteps getting louder and louder, and he's going to catch me. He's going to kill me too.
Maddy's face flashes in my mind. The shock in her warm brown eyes. The blood pooling around her body as she bled onto the ground. It doesn't seem real. None of this seems real. I didn't even watch her die, but somehow her scream is echoing in my ears. I can't stop hearing it.
I shove past a couple coming out of a bar. A woman with cigarette breath yells as I crash into her. The guy with her swears and turns like he's going to come after me, too. I run harder, fighting the stitch in my side, ignoring the blur of street names I barely recognize.
People are everywhere now. Laughter and drunken voices. I dart through the crowd, slamming into a man in a wool coat,spinning off him, and landing hard against a parked car. I can't feel my hands. I can't feel anything but the white heat of my pulse, the scrape of my sneakers against asphalt, the blinding panic. My chest is about to burst. But Maddy's dead. Maddy's dead, and I can't stop running.
He's still there. Close enough that I swear I can hear him breathing.
I round another corner. Brighter lights. More people. The chill of the night air, thick with exhaust and shouts. Maybe I can lose him. Maybe I can live.
A siren wails somewhere nearby. The traffic and noise build to a thundering, confusing blur. I stumble, feet tangling beneath me, but somehow I'm still going. A splash of color in the distance. The 24-hour diner Maddy loves, with the neon pink cupcake glowing. My chest caves in with a sob. I have to make it. I just have to.
A hand clamps on my shoulder, spinning me around. I scream. A wild, terrified sound that shreds my throat. I kick at the hand, shrug it off, and dart across the street. More voices shout. Car horns blare. My foot catches on a pothole, but I stay upright. I'm getting away. Somehow, I'm getting away.
Past the gas station and a row of late-night bodegas. The reflection of my own panicked face in the dirty windows. Lips blue with cold. Hair flying in every direction. A scarf tripping me up as it slides from my neck. My face, and then his. Closer. Closer.
I dart into a narrow alley, half-lit and filled with trash cans. It smells like old garbage and snow. The shouts from the street fade to a dull hum. The sound of his footsteps, so close. Too close.
I tear out the other side, skidding onto the sidewalk, and I run. I run until my legs give out, and then I run some more. My vision blurs. The world spins. I can't breathe, I can't see, I can't think.
But I'm still alive.
That thought hits me like an electric jolt. I'm still alive. I whip around and look behind me. The footsteps are gone.
It's been seconds. Hours. I can't tell. My heart still thuds against my ribs, fast and wild. But the street is empty.
Empty!
