Page 119 of Brutal
Nothing.
No shouts.
No rush of men.
No chaos.
Just rain pouring over all of it.
Just the shape of him on the dock.
Just me standing above the wrong ending to something I still don’t fully understand.
The room snaps back into place around me. My hand is braced on the desk hard enough to whiten my knuckles.
I straighten slowly.
Last night in bed, Delaney asked me nothing that mattered aloud. Her body asked everything. Her mouth. Her hands. The way she opened for me.
A floorboard creaks outside.
I move before the sound finishes. I unlock the door again and walk quietly down the hall.
At the far end of the hall, the stairwell door swings softly on its hinge.
Someone was just here.
I take the stairs two at a time. Push through the lobby. Cold air slams into me as I hit the street.
A figure cuts across the far end of the block. A male in a dark hoodie, running.
I go after him.
He glances back once, sees me gaining, and bolts harder. He knows these streets or he’s been told where to go. He hooks left into a narrow alley between two brick buildings.
I follow.
The alley reeks of damp concrete and old trash. I slow just enough to listen.
A scrape.
Then silence.
I keep moving, but I find nothing. Just a chain-link gate at the far end, rattling faintly on its latch.
He’s gone.
Or he was never alone.
Fuck. I left Delaney alone with an unlocked door.
I race back.
By the time I reenter Delaney’s apartment, my pulse has settled. My body has not.
She’s still asleep.
Still on her side.
