Devour the poison: His revenge. Her secret.

Chapter 3

*Annabel*

The text burns on my screen. _We are with you_

I can’t breathe.

Teresa reads it over my shoulder. She doesn’t say anything. She just grabs Tatiana’s hand and kills the porch light.

My legs don’t work. My brain is screaming _move move move_ but my body’s turned to cement. Five years of playing housewife and I forgot how to run.

“Annabel.” Teresa’s voice is a whip. “Downstairs. Now.”

That snaps it. I shove my phone in my pocket, scoop Tatiana up, and follow her. My daughter’s breath is hot against my neck. Too fast. She’s scared because I’m scared.

We don’t go for the bags. We leave Teresa’s front door wide open and go out the garage, into the alley. Jump straight into her car.

“Seat belt.” Teresa peels out before I click Tatiana’s. Tires squeal.

Tatiana whimpers. “Mommy?”

“Shh, baby. It’s okay. We’re playing hide and seek,” I lie. I look back through the rear window. Dark. No headlights. Not yet.

My hands won’t stop shaking. I press them against my thighs. _Think. Where can we go? Police? They own the police. Airport? They’ll be watching._

Teresa takes corners too fast. We don’t talk. There’s nothing to say.

Twenty minutes. It feels like twenty years. She stops under a flickering VACANCY sign. The Sweet Rest Motel. Paint peeling. One star if we’re lucky.

She shoves cash into my hand. Don’t look at me. “Room 102. Don’t use your name. Don’t use your card. Don’t open the door unless it’s me.”

“Teresa—”

“I’ll call in an hour.” She kisses Tatiana’s head, then she’s gone. Brake lights disappear around the corner.

I’m standing in a motel parking lot. Holding my daughter and a few cash. The twins know we’re here. They told me. _We are with you_

I look down at Tatiana. She’s looking up at me, waiting for me to make this safe.

I have no plan. No weapons. No husband.

I have to be enough.

Stepping into the motel as best we can, I do as Teresa ordered, finally getting into the room and locking the door.

I place Tatiana on the bed, pacing the room with my arms crossed.

“Mommy, you don't look happy.”

I force a smile. “Mommy is fine,” then I walk over to her side and help her lie down on the bed. “It is time for bed.”

“Hold me.”

“Of course, my darling,” I hold her, watching her drift off to sleep.

For one minute, the room is quiet—only the sound of her breathing and the motel AC rattling. I almost believe we are safe.

A few minutes later, I am already dozing off when my daughter suddenly cries out.

“What is it, baby?” I ask.

“I'm hungry. My stomach hurts.”

God, this is not happening.

I grab that backpack I brought, hands shaking. I unzip it and drop all the contents onto the bedspread. Tatiana’s sweater. Aiden’s colouring book with a few pencils. Half bottled water. No food.

Nothing. s**t. Nothing.

“There is nothing here. I shall get you something to eat in the morning. You need to sleep now.”

She cries harder, bringing out the frustration in me. “My stomach hurts, Mommy.”

“Endure it, please.”

She doesn't.

Her crying gets higher, sharper, the type that carries through motel walls. What am I supposed to do? If she keeps crying, someone calls the front desk. The front desk calls the cops. The cops are theirs.

There are a few dollar bills in the bag, about twenty, crumpled maybe but enough to buy crackers and milk. It’s risky but leaving her crying is riskier.

What if the twins see me?

They are watching my every move, and I'm still silently praying to God they don't come here.

Tatiana doesn't stop crying about her stomach hurting. Maybe I can go to the closest store and get something for her to eat, even though I don't want to admit it, I'm hungry as well.

“Give me a few minutes. I will be back with food, okay?”

She nods.

I get out of bed and put on a black coat and cap, just to disguise myself. I just have to make sure I don't take long.

I dash out of the room but not without locking my daughter in. I wedge Aiden’s coloring book under the door, which won't stop a bullet, at least it will give her a few seconds to hide in the toilet if she hears anything.

Leaving her is death. Taking her means they hear us run. The door is my only bet.

I step into the cold night, shoot a text to Teresa to help watch from outside. And run as fast as I can.

Getting to the store, I press against the glass. Open. Fluorescent lights are buzzing. One clerk, half asleep. No cameras I can see.

I grab the first things I touch — bread, peanut butter, milk, all stale-dated but edible. I keep my head down. Pay cash. Don’t speak.

The clerk doesn’t look up. I’m out in ninety seconds.

I don’t breathe until I’m three blocks away. No Levi. No Daniel. Just me, a plastic bag, and a heart trying to beat out of my chest. I walk back quietly, hugging the shadows.

I’m fifty feet from the motel. I can see the porch. Almost safe—

Headlights swing into the lot. Black SUV. Engine cuts.

I freeze. Don’t breathe. Don’t—

Levi gets out. Daniel follows.

They’re not looking for me. They’re walking straight to the motel.

Fifty feet away and my daughter’s behind that door with a coloring book wedged under it.

My throat tightens. Instinct takes over. I could hide, duck behind a dumpster, let them go in and take her, but instead I step into the streetlight, into their sights.

“Hey!” I scream.

Daniel’s head snaps up first. He points. “There!”

I’m already running. Bag smacking my leg. Milk sloshing. Don’t look back. Don’t you f*****g look back.

Feet pound pavement behind me. Two sets. Getting closer.

“There she is!”

Adrenaline kicks in.

This feels much better, a crazy way to lure them away from my daughter. They can kill me, but I will never let them get close to Tatiana.

I don’t know this area.

I run blind. Left, right, left. Buildings are dark. Locked.

Then I see it. A club. Neon sign buzzing. Music thumping. People by the door. Light. Noise. Witnesses.

Levi won’t shoot me in front of witnesses. He wants me alive.

The club’s back entrance is propped open, a guy in a suit on a smoke break. He sees me running, sees the twins behind me, and steps aside.

I don’t question it. I bolt inside, through the kitchen, into a hall. Doors. I hit the first open one, music screaming out—

Then what I run into scares the s**t out of me.