Chapter 1 - The Standoff in the Sleet
Gideon’s eyes narrowed, his heavy shoulders tensing as Arthur refused to step aside. The sleet continued to fall, coating the rusted oil drum in a layer of ice.
"Move, old man," Gideon growled, his voice like grinding stones. "Or you die out here, and nobody ever finds your body."
Elara’s heart hammered against her bruised ribs. She grabbed Arthur’s moth-eaten sleeve, pulling him back with whatever frail strength she had left. "Don't," she croaked. "Don't die for me, Arthur. You've done enough."
Arthur looked back at her, his eyes carrying a weary sadness, but he slowly lowered his arms. Elara forced herself to stand, her single stockinged foot burning against the freezing concrete. She stared Gideon dead in the eye, refusing to let him see the terror threatening to collapse her lungs.
"I'm coming," Elara said, her voice shaking but firm. "Just leave him alone."
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Gideon smirked, gesturing toward the sleek black sedan with a jerk of his head. "Get in. The boss doesn't like to be kept waiting."
As Elara limped toward the car, she glanced back at Arthur. He gave her a silent, solemn nod. The second man shoved her roughly into the backseat, the heavy door slamming shut and sealing her inside a tomb of heated leather and expensive cologne. As the car sped away from the underpass, Elara stared out the tinted window. She had survived the night, but she was being driven straight back into the devil's open jaws.
