I run my hand along the stone wall of the alley, then rest it on my chest. It's cold to the touch and it helps slow down wild thump of my heartbeat. My mouth feels like I've been sucking on a handful of cotton balls. I have to get out of here.
I don't know if it's the adrenaline or fear that makes me feel as though my clothes are sticking to my skin, but I'm hot, even with the cool air of evening breezing through the alley. As it sinks lower and lower into the blue, a red-orange beam is cast over the alley where I'm hiding.
My breath is still coming in jagged gasps. I feel a little delirious. How much time has passed since I ran in here? Ten minutes? Fifteen? Twenty?
It's not every day someone tries to murder you.
Okay, well, technically they tried to murder Lorenzo "Ren" Valenti.
But that doesn't make it any less alarming that there was an assassination attempt in broad daylight outside a coffee shop. Even though I live in the forgotten district of this city, I've never seen such a brazen attack on one of the syndicate bosses. I should have expected something like this would happen, though, after what went down in Moscow a year ago. Ren won't back down from a challenge. He won't let anyone kill him and get away with it. And now that he's the head of the Shadow Court, he's got a bull's eye on his back.
If he lives through this, there's going to be hell to pay. People will die. Innocent and otherwise.
But I can't help but focus on the fact that I saved him.
I'm not sure what possessed me to step in front of Ren Valenti this afternoon, but my feet moved before my brain could stop them. I just did it. I didn't even think about the consequences. Not until now, when I'm still shaking and trying to catch my breath and my eyes keep darting over my shoulder, expecting to see a black van barreling toward me with machine gunners hanging out the side.
I've put a target on my back now.
Shit. What have I done?
My pulse picks up speed again and I try to calm myself down. There is no reason for anyone to know the waitress who saved Ren Valenti was me. I wasn't supposed to be at work today, so no one knows I'm even in the city. I'm supposed to be visiting my sick grandmother in another state, but there is no sick grandmother, there is no other state. There is just my shabby, crappy life and this stupid café, my only source of income.
I turn and start to make my way toward the mouth of the alley, but the sound of running feet has me slinking against the wall again. This time, however, it's a small child. A boy. He comes out of nowhere, racing out of the street and down the alley with a look of determination on his face.
I lean my head back against the wall. "What now?" I mutter, just as the boy skids to a stop in front of me. His eyes go round as he takes me in.
"Holy cow!" he says. "You're bleeding!"
I glance down at myself. "Am I?" Sure enough, there's a rip in the side of my black uniform dress, my white waitress apron stained with blood from a little gash in my side. My first aid kit at the café is seriously lacking in supplies, but I did bandage it the best I can, even though it's hurt like a bitch.
"Where are you going?" I ask the kid, still in shock over the afternoon's events.
"Home." He looks confused. "Where else?"
"Right. Well, be careful going home," I tell him, backing away slowly.
"I'm always careful!" he calls after me as I stumble out of the alley and into the street.
There are no people around. The street is empty and I can only assume this is because of the shooting. Everyone is locked indoors until the all-clear. Still, the fact that it's quiet and deserted makes me uneasy. I keep looking around to make sure I'm not being followed. I'm halfway home when I feel my phone vibrating in my backpack.
I pull it out and take the call from an unknown number.
"Is this Miss Elena Marlowe?"
"Yes." I keep walking, but my hand goes to my side, as if I can physically shield myself from this call. "Who is this?"
"I'm a representative of the Valenti syndicate."
My feet slow to a stop. "Is...is Mr. Valenti all right? After what happened this afternoon."
"He's fine, thank you for asking," the man says in a deep, gravelly voice. "He's fine because of you. He's grateful for your quick thinking."
"Quick thinking?" I whisper.
"You saved his life today..