Page 2 of Shadows of Steel
My hand flails, searching, reaching. My fingers brush against the cool, solid weight of the lamp on the nightstand. I falter for just a second, but then instinct takes over. I grip it tightly, lifting it with every ounce of strength I possess and bringing it down in one violent arc.
The impact is sickening, a dull, wet crack, followed by the sharp shatter of glass.
Troy recoils with a guttural sound, lurching backward. He loses his balance, tumbling off the bed and crashing onto the floor. Shards of glass bite into his flesh, one jagged piece embedding itself in the side of his neck. Blood wells, then spills in thick rivulets, staining his skin, his shirt, the floor beneath him.
I scramble away, my breath a series of sharp, uneven gasps. My heart slams against my ribs as I watch him stagger, hands pressing to his throat in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. His lips part, but no sound escapes. His body jerks once, twice, a wet, rattling choke slipping from his throat. Then, finally, he stills.
The room is quiet now, save for the ragged sound of my breathing and the faint, sickening wheeze that lingers before fading into silence. My hands tremble. My pulse pounds in my skull. I can’t move.
The silence barely has time to settle before the door bursts open.
Carmela.
My mother.
Her scream tears through the air, shrill and grating. She rushes to Troy’s side, her expression a contorted mask of fury and disbelief, eyes flicking between me and the blood pooling at her feet. “What did you do?” she shrieks, her voice wild with hysteria. “You stupid, ungrateful bitch! What have you done?”
I don’t respond. What’s the point? She’s already decided this is my fault. She always has. Her accusations spill like venom, each word more toxic than the last.
“You’ve always wanted to ruin me! Always! You’ve never been anything but a burden! I should’ve gotten rid of you when I had the chance.”
Her fury crashes over me, a tidal wave of vitriol, but I remain unmoved. The accusations spill from her lips, yet they hold no power over me. I have heard it all before. I have endured it.
Silently, I turn away, my hands moving with purpose as I reach for my backpack and sling it over my shoulder. The weight of it is nothing compared to the chains I am leaving behind. For the first time, it feels like freedom.
I stride past her, past Troy’s lifeless form, and step through the door without remorse.
This escape was long overdue.
Behind me, the silence deepens, the slow, rhythmic dripping stops.
Chapter 1
Harlow
Free.
That’s what I finally am.
Or maybe that’s the lie I keep telling myself, the threadbare mantra I cling to when the nights stretch too long and the memories creep in.
Freedom should feel like peace, like the unshackled joy of a bird soaring into an endless sky. But instead, it feels like a void, aching, hollow, haunted by echoes of what I’ve left behind.
The nights are the cruellest.
When silence coils around me, thick and unrelenting, every shadow is a reminder—I am not free.
I am running.
Perhaps one day, I’ll convince myself otherwise.
Perhaps I never will.
Three months have passed since I landed in Palermo. Long enough to realize coming here was a mistake, but not long enough to understand why I made the choice in the first place. I tell myself it was random, that Italy is just another place on the map.
But deep down, I know the truth.
Somewhere in this country is the man who calls himself my father. A man who left me in the world without so much as a whisper of care.
