Page 105 of Pas de Trois
Maybe I’ve died.
Maybe this dark awareness is what it’s like to be dead.
But I still feel pain.
“Well, fuck. Let’s get her outta here before the rest of the four families come looking.”
“Where are we taking her?” Stella asks. “And what about Kostya?”
“I have a plan. Go get my phone from the car so I can call our pilot. I can stall the rest of them from coming out here for maybe a half hour. We need to move quickly. I can’t afford any suspicion on my head. We’ll tell them they all got away on the first chopper and you and I went after them in the second. Understood?”
Stella sounds relieved. “Thank you. Really, thank you, Murphy.”
But I’m still not so sure I’m actually alive. Maybe this is all a dream. Perhaps death is simply this state of awareness where only darkness exists without a physical being. Maybe I’ll be trapped inside my own rotting corpse forever.
Purgatory.
But then, I feel fresh cold along my back, the familiar damp cold of fresh, powdery snow, and I realize my body is being moved. I’m hoisted from the ground and I feel Murphy’s shoulder jab into my stomach and it fucking hurts.
I scream and the movement stops.
“Anya? It’s…You’re gonna be okay, just hang on,” Stella says.
Could she hear my scream?
Did I make a sound?
“Jesus, why would they do this?” she murmurs. “Why would they put a spike strip in the road?”
“Fucking Vittoris.”
“It’s…it’s vile.”
“We’re all vile, sweetheart,” Murphy says, and I realize he’s carrying my limp body over his shoulder. “It’s in our blood. It’s our business.”
“If you’re so vile, then why are you helping her?”
“For you, lass. You wanted proof I could be a good man and stand up for you? Well, here it is, sweetheart. I’m saving her to show you that I’ve…that I’m capable of being better. This poor girl has been through enough. Maybe I’m a little tired of it, too.”
I want to laugh.
I wish I could.
Murphy O’Shea, of all people, ruthless king of masters, has come to my rescue.
Unless he’s too late to save me.
Unless I’m already dead.
