Chapter 7 - Knock at the Door
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The medical van sped away into the rainy night, leaving Leah and Dante concealed in the shadows of the alleyway. Leah’s heart hammered against her ribs as she watched the four heavily armed men kick in the front door of her apartment building.
"We need to move," Dante whispered, his voice a harsh rasp. "They'll realize the apartment is empty in less than a minute."
"Where do we go?" Leah asked, her voice trembling. "They have cars. They have guns. We have a switchblade."
"I have safehouses scattered across the city," Dante said, grabbing her hand and pulling her deeper into the alley. "There’s one three blocks from here. An old boxing gym I bought years ago."
They ran through the rain, slipping through narrow passages between brick buildings, jumping over rusted chain-link fences. Leah’s broken shoe finally gave out entirely, the sole snapping off. She stumbled, falling hard onto the wet concrete and tearing the skin off her knees.
"Come on," Dante hauled her up without breaking stride, wrapping his arm around her waist to support her weight.
Sirens wailed in the distance, but the immediate threat was the screech of tires echoing behind them. Sable's men were circling the blocks, hunting them.
They reached a rundown industrial street. Dante kicked the side door of a dark, abandoned-looking warehouse. It didn't budge. He swore under his breath, taking a step back, and drove his heel into the lock with the force of a battering ram. The wood splintered, and the door flew open.
They rushed inside, Dante pushing a heavy metal filing cabinet in front of the door to barricade it.
The interior smelled of old leather and sweat. Moonlight filtered through the skylights, illuminating a dusty boxing ring in the center of the room.
Dante collapsed against the wall, sliding down to the floor. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the drug Sable’s men had injected him with was finally taking its toll. His skin was pale, his breathing ragged.
"Dante!" Leah dropped to her knees beside him. "Hey, stay with me. Look at me."
"I'm fine," he grunted, though his eyes were heavy. "Just... need a minute."
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"You don't have a minute," she snapped, ripping a piece of clean cloth from a stack of old gym towels and wiping the cold sweat from his face. "If you die on me now, I swear I’ll kill you myself."
Dante managed a weak, terrifying smile. "You're a fierce little thing, Leah."
