Bloodlines and Bullets

I'm running.

My breath comes in shallow bursts, every step hammering into the ground as I sprint down the darkened streets. My heels flap uselessly in my hands as my bare feet slap the pavement. The cold of the night seeps into my skin, but it's nothing compared to the icy terror clawing its way up my spine. I can't stop. Not even for a second. They'll find me. The air sticks in my throat, and the humid night presses against me, choking me. I'm still too close to the city. Too close to them. I round a corner, nearly skidding on the slick sidewalk, my muscles screaming, but I won't slow down. Can't slow down. I hear a car engine revving in the distance, and my heart leaps into my throat. Is it them?

I slip between two buildings, pressing myself against the brick wall, trying to disappear into the shadows. The alley is tight and stinks of garbage, but I don't care. My lungs burn as I gasp for air, trying to stay as quiet as possible. I can't afford to make a sound. I wait, ears straining for any sign that they're close. The car passes, and I exhale shakily, biting back a sob. Too close. Every second, I feel like they're right behind me, their dark eyes watching from every shadow, waiting for me to slip up. Luciano's men have eyes everywhere. I know they'll never stop hunting me - not until they drag me back to him.

I peek around the corner, heart thudding in my chest. The street is empty, for now, but it won't stay that way. My bare feet ache from running, raw and bloody from the asphalt, but the pain is a distant thing. All that matters is distance. I need to put as much space between me and him as possible. Arrio is after me too, but it's Luciano I fear most. Him, with his cold, calculating eyes and the way he smiles like he already owns me. He does own you, a voice whispers in my mind, but I shove it away. Not anymore. Not if I can just keep running, keep moving.

I dart out of the alley and back onto the street. The neon lights of Toronto still flicker overhead, casting long shadows that make my skin crawl. Everything feels like a trap. I glance up and down the road, checking every window, every doorway, paranoid that they'll come bursting out at any second. My hands shake as I grip my shoes tighter, the sharp stiletto heels digging into my palms. There's a diner up ahead, glowing like a beacon in the dark. I know it's a bad idea to stop, but I need to get out of the open, just for a minute. I can't keep running forever without a plan. I hurry toward it, my feet burning with every step, but I don't care. The thought of getting off the streets, even for a moment, is enough to push me forward.

The bell above the diner door jingles as I slip inside, and the harsh fluorescent lights make me squint. A handful of late-night customers are scattered around - two men at the counter, a couple in a booth by the window. None of them seem to notice me, or at least, they don't care. I head straight for the farthest booth, sliding into the seat, my back pressed firmly against the wall. From here, I can see the door, see who comes in, and I won't be caught off guard.

The waitress comes over, her pencil tapping against her notepad, and I force a smile. "Coffee?" she asks, her eyes glancing down at my bare feet, the crimson dress.

"Please," I say, my voice hoarse. She nods and walks off without a second glance, and I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding.

I've bought myself a few minutes. But that's all.

I stare out the window, my leg bouncing under the table. My thoughts race, and no matter how hard I try, I can't stop them from spiraling. Arrio wants me dead, but Luciano doesn't just want me dead. No, he wants me back. And that's so much worse.

The waitress drops the coffee in front of me, and I grip the mug, my hands still trembling. I've heard the stories about what happens to those who cross him, those who try to escape. They never make it far. He finds them. He always finds them. A few thought they could betray him, maybe slip away quietly, or sell what they knew to the highest bidder. Sofia told me about that one guy who took off to work with another family, thinking he could just walk away. He vanished. No one ever saw him again. There was no body, no blood, just whispers. Some said he was living somewhere under a new name, but she doubts that - and so do I.