Chapter 5

By late afternoon the next day, Antoinette tested her weight on her right foot. The swelling had gone down significantly, leaving only a dull ache.

She checked her phone. The bank app showed a zero balance, but the account was active. She needed a temporary debit card to access the funds Hiram's lawyers were transferring.

Hiram was in the living room, his deep voice carrying through the door as he conducted a video conference with his executives. She didn't want to interrupt him.

She changed into a simple pair of jeans and a sweater, grabbed her crossbody bag, and quietly slipped out of the suite. She thought she was being stealthy, completely unaware that the moment her door clicked shut, Hiram had already signaled Alex. The highly trained security assistant had been tailing her from a discreet distance ever since she stepped out of the elevator, keeping a live GPS feed open to Hiram's phone.

The chaotic energy of downtown New York was overwhelming but exhilarating. She navigated the crowded sidewalks, found a Chase Bank branch, and successfully secured her new debit card.

When she pushed through the heavy glass doors to leave the bank, the sky had already turned the color of bruised plum. Streetlights flickered on, casting long shadows across the pavement.

Antoinette shoved the debit card and a few twenty-dollar bills into her bag. She pulled up the map on her phone and started walking back toward the hotel.

She was so focused on the feeling of financial independence that she didn't notice the erratic, swaying shadow that had been tracking her for two blocks.

To cut her trip short, Antoinette turned down a narrow alleyway that connected two main avenues.

The alley was dark. One of the overhead streetlamps was busted, leaving the middle section bathed in shadows. Massive green dumpsters lined the brick walls.

Suddenly, a foul stench hit her face-a nauseating mix of cheap, stale whiskey and unwashed body odor.

A man stepped out from behind a dumpster, blocking her path. Mickey O'Connell had a thick, dirty beard and bloodshot eyes.

Antoinette's heart slammed against her ribs. Her stomach dropped. She gripped the strap of her crossbody bag so hard her knuckles turned white. She immediately spun around to run back to the street.

Mickey let out a wet, guttural laugh. He lunged.

His filthy, calloused hand clamped down on her upper arm like a steel trap.

Antoinette screamed. She yanked her arm with all her might, but the difference in physical strength was absolute. She couldn't break free.

Mickey spat a string of vile, slurred curses. He yanked her hard, dragging her deeper into the pitch-black dead end of the alley.

The suffocating helplessness from her past life-the feeling of being trapped while the fire consumed her-rushed back. But this time, the fear mutated instantly into a feral, violent rage.

She didn't beg. She didn't cry.

Antoinette swung her heavy leather crossbody bag like a weapon, smashing it directly into Mickey's face.

The heavy metal buckle caught him right above the eye. Skin tore. Blood instantly welled up and ran down his cheek.

Mickey roared in pain and fury. He let go of her arm, drew his hand back, and slapped her across the face with brutal force.

The impact threw Antoinette to the ground. Her palms scraped raw against the rough asphalt. A sharp spike of agony shot up her freshly healed ankle.

Mickey threw his heavy body on top of her, his foul breath hot against her neck. His thick hands grabbed the collar of her sweater, pulling violently to rip the fabric.

Antoinette kicked wildly, her sneakers connecting with his shins. Her fingers clawed desperately at the cracks in the pavement, her nails breaking and bleeding as she fought to crawl away.

Just as the darkness threatened to swallow her whole, the tracking beacon on Alex's end triggered the ultimate response. A blinding, explosive light flooded the alley. The deafening screech of tires tearing against asphalt echoed off the brick walls as Hiram, who had been monitoring her proximity the entire time, arrived. A massive black SUV slammed to a halt right at the mouth of the alley.

The high beams hit Mickey, blinding him. He threw a hand over his eyes, his assault pausing for a fraction of a second.

The driver's side door was kicked open before the car even fully stopped.

A tall, broad-shouldered silhouette stepped into the blinding light. The air in the alley instantly grew heavy with a suffocating, murderous rage.

Through her tangled hair and stinging tears, Antoinette recognized the shape of those shoulders.

It was Hiram.

The sheer terror in her chest shattered, replaced by a crushing wave of relief. Her throat was raw as she sobbed out his name. "Hiram!"