CHAPTER 014
1523 Words
Savannah's POV
The sky above the city was a bruised purple at sunset, a color that seemed to warn us. The clinic had a strong smell of antiseptic and old sweat. I was at my desk, filling out the paperwork with a cracked pen as the lights above me buzzed.
I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking.
A new girl arrived at the club tonight. Maybe fifteen. Maybe younger. I couldn’t bring myself to say her name. Wouldn’t meet my gaze. Her lip was cut, she was barefoot and her arms were covered with scars that were still healing. She didn’t move away when I cleaned her wounds, but I noticed her jaw tighten with every touch. I recognized that silence. It wasn’t fear that caused that kind of silence.
It was born out of overcoming something terrible.
I was about to lock the back door when I heard someone knock.
Three gentle and accurate taps.
I froze.
Only staff or people causing trouble were allowed to use the back door.
All my muscles became tense. I picked up the scalpel I’d left on the tray and moved slowly toward the door, keeping close to the ground. I couldn’t breathe for a moment. The door was concealed. The alley and a rusted fence are what cover it. If someone was standing on the other side, they understood exactly what was happening.
I only opened the book a little bit.
He was standing in the shadows, tall and unmoving. Olive skin. Closecropped beard. Hoodie pulled down over my head. His gaze met mine and it was neither sharp nor soft. Just tired. Haunted. It was as if he had something in his hands that he couldn’t let go of.
“Savannah?” he asked, speaking softly and steadily.
I didn’t say anything.
He took his time reaching into his coat. I held the scalpel more firmly in my hand.
He then showed me his badge.
Worn. Real.
“Detective Reyes,” he replied. I need a little time alone. It’s all about Ethan.
I felt like everything inside me was freezing over.
I looked at him. He didn’t even flinch.
I told him, “Back up.”
He did. I opened the door, making sure the scalpel was close to me.
He moved quietly, his steps smooth and careful, as if he had done this before. Not a danger. Not someone I consider a friend. Just a guy carrying something dangerous on him.
“Five minutes,” I told him as I closed the door. “Speak your mind.”
He nodded and reached into his coat to get a thick manila folder.
He put it down on the table between us. It seemed that the folder had been pushed under the floorboards and possibly stained with blood. He took the letter out of the envelope.
What I read made me feel sick to my stomach.
Photographs.
Ethan. Standing at the dock, I gave a briefcase to a man with tattoos on his face and neck.
Another picture—Ethan in the passenger seat of a black SUV, the same type that had followed me last week. He gave me a smug look and held out his hand for a deal.
Receipts. Cargo logs. Bank slips linked to accounts in foreign countries. Notes written by hand in Spanish and English. Names. Places. Drop points.
One picture stood out to me.
My clinic.
The main entrance to the building. I, locking myself up. Another time—I helped a kid who was inside.
“What is this thing?” I could hear my voice trembling.
“Evidence,” Reyes replied. Ethan has been involved in moving drugs for the cartel. Weapons. People. Narcotics. This is only one part of the bigger picture.
I showed the picture of my clinic to the doctor. “What is the reason I am in there?” How does this concern me?
Reyes didn’t even flinch. They are keeping an eye on you. Ethan believes you could share what you know. That you’ve witnessed too much. He informed the wrong people that you are a risk.
I whispered, “No.” “He wouldn’t—”
He would do it, though. He had done so.
I stepped back from the table, feeling sick to my stomach.
“You’re being watched, Savannah,” he added. “At this clinic. You’ve cared for children who managed to get away from them. Women who competed. Ethan is aware of that. You wonder if he’s noticed how many of his secrets end up spilling onto your table.
I rested against the wall, feeling the pressure of everything.
“Why did you come here?” I asked. “To frighten me?”
“To bring you into the organization.”
I gave a bitter laugh. “You’re crazy.”
“I’m not telling you to put on a wire or break into someone’s house,” he said. Someone is inside. A person who is part of the cartel. They are looking for a way out. They are prepared to give testimony. But they depend on Ethan—he’s the one who connects the street activities to the top leaders.
“You want me to lure him in.”
Please keep doing the things you’re already doing. Just let us know if he contacts you. Once he feels at ease. We’ll take care of everything else.
“You don’t know the things he can do.”
Reyes stared straight at me. “Yes, that is true.”
His tone became lower. Ethan was once our source of information. Years ago. He changed his mind, took the offer and vanished into the same shadows we were trying to uncover. He has been providing for both sides since then. The cartel. Us. He took the money from his own pocket.”
I looked at him.
“You’re saying I was used… again?”
He gave a single nod.
I went over, grabbed a photo—Ethan smiling, holding a girl who was crying and couldn’t have been older than sixteen. She was trembling.
I felt my stomach twist.
You’re asking me to join you in bringing him down.
I’m asking you to make it through this time.
We didn’t say much. The quiet lasted for a while. I could sense my heart pounding in my throat.
“What will become of me after this?” I asked the question at last. “What if they discover that I helped you?”
We will place you in a safe area.
I scoffed. That’s not how you make a plan. That’s a sentence of death.
He sighed. I cannot guarantee your safety. But I can assure you—if Ethan remains in the field, you are already at risk.
It felt as if I was at the edge of a cliff and only then realized the ground had been breaking down for a long time.
He slid a burner phone toward me.
When I call, please pick up the phone. When you get a text from me, reply. Nothing else. No trails. No screwups.”
I glanced at my phone. Cheap. Plastic. Disposable.
I held my fingers above the button.
“Is that all I have?”
Reyes nodded. “For now.”
I tightened my jaw. I felt a sharp pain in my chest.
I raised my eyes.
“If I fall,” I said, my voice calm and hard as steel, “I’ll take him down with me.”
He gave me a sad smile.
I was hoping you’d feel the same way.
He walked away, as if he hadn’t just changed everything for me.
I called out, “Reyes.”
He stopped.
“Please don’t let me die.”
He glanced behind him. I’ll do my best not to.
And that was the last time I saw him.
It was that simple.
He closed the back door with a click. I was the only one in the clinic. The pictures were still arranged as if they were part of a murder investigation. I felt my throat tighten. I wanted to destroy every document, but I couldn’t get up.
My regular phone started to vibrate.
I grabbed it.
Unknown number. One message.
“We know who you spoke with. Get out of here.”
Time slowed.
I couldn’t see clearly.
I quickly went to the window and looked through the blinds.
A black SUV was parked on the other side of the street.
Idling.
Dark windows. No movement.
No headlights. Just waiting.
Watching.
I felt a sudden drop in my stomach.
They didn’t just guess.
They knew.
I rushed to the lights and turned them off.
Grabbed the burner phone. I picked up the folder. I packed everything I could into my backpack.
I went to grab my keys, but stopped myself.
I realized something terrible.
I wasn’t being monitored.
I was being chased.
What was I thinking when I started this?
How much time did I have before the next knock wasn’t from someone who wanted to help?
But if the person is trying to kill me?
- Writer
