I nodded, believing him.
Rolando went first. We slipped into the hallway and up the stairs. Rolando went up and waited, glancing both ways, before gesturing for Mal to follow. I stayed close to him, holding his hand so tight like it might go away as we crept into the house.
It was dead silent. The guards were all outside. Rolando went left toward the kitchen and Mal followed. I listened for any hint of life but found none. My heart raced, but I wasn’t sure if it was from fear or excitement or pure happiness. Mal was still alive. My Mal was still alive.
The guilt was there. It was waiting to consume me, but I wouldn’t let it. It’d had enough since Carmine died and I was done feeding that darkness. I had a chance with Mal and I regretted the way things went, and now I wouldn’t make that mistake twice. I had him, and I wasn’t letting him go. I tightened my grip on his fingers.
We went through the kitchen, down the back hall, and paused at the back door. I’d taken this same route a few times. It was the best way to slip out. The guards were concentrated in the front and in the far back, and this side exit led straight to the woods and the fence. Rolando stepped into the night, made sure nobody was in sight, and gestured.
We ran. I went fast on unsteady legs and tripped. I’d barely moved in days and hadn’t eaten much. I was faint and weak, but Mal scooped me into his arms like I was nothing and kept running. He was a beast, a shadow monster, a killer in the night. He was the demon parents warned their kids about.
We reached the fence. Rolando gestured and Mal helped me up first. I toppled over and hit the other side with a thud. Mal came next and helped me to my feet. “You okay?” he whispered.
“I’m okay,” I said.
Rolando didn’t hop the fence. “Keep going,” he hissed in the darkness. “I’m heading back. I’ll raise the alarm in two minutes. Run now.”
Mal nodded to him and squeezed my hand. “Ready?” he asked.
“Ready,” I said.
We ran.
It felt good.
It felt so, so good.
I ran next to Mal through the neighborhood and down the block, my feet flying, my legs pumping, his hand in mine, and it was the greatest moment of my life. I was free of my father and I’d never go back. He knew I was a traitor now and I could never return home. Not that I wanted to—I had Mal now, and I had a future.
That run was heaven. I laughed as my hair streamed behind me. Mal grinned, his teeth flashing in the streetlights. We got two blocks, then three blocks, then four away before Mal finally slowed to a walk. He draped a big arm over my shoulders and pulled me close as I caught my breath.
“You’re out for good now,” he whispered. “And I won’t ever let them take you back.”
“You promise?”
“I promise. I’m sorry I ever let you walk away from me, Cap. But I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Mal,” I said and I wanted to express a million other things. I wanted him to know that I made a mistake when I sent him to that gas station. I wanted him to understand how badly it hurt me, and how much I cared about him, and how I was finished holding back. I needed him to see that I understood what was important, and he was at the center of it all.
Ahead, a truck door opened. Someone stepped out.
Mal stiffened and turned. I followed his gaze.
And my world dropped out from beneath me.
Mal’s grip tensed as he hugged me closer.
Carmine grinned and held up a hand.
“Hey, Cap. You look like hell. Ready to get going?”
Chapter 29
Capri
Mal was silent on the ride to his apartment. Carmine sat between us, whistling to himself, grinning a stupid grin. “It’s nice being back in San Antonio,” he said, stretching his legs. “The desert gets boring as shit. Hey, Mal, you mind if I put on the radio?”
Mal grunted his assent.
I stared out the window, my body ringing like a bell on a clear winter day. Carmine was alive, Carmine was alive, CARMINE WAS ALIVE. He was sitting next to me, his knee bumping against mine, because he was ALIVE, not dead, not at all.
Mal and Carmine and me, together again.
I should’ve been happy. That’s what killed me. I should’ve been excited, but instead a pit of dread opened in my guts and I squirmed the entire ride. Carmine was alive and well and sitting in this truck and whistling along to “Sweet Caroline” and I didn’t know if I wanted to puke or laugh or cry or everything all at once.