When my toes hit surface, I exhaled in utter relief.
“Let’s go,” I said, turning my face to meet hers near my shoulder.
And so I ran.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Ethan
When I reached the end of the alley, I stopped to check for any lookouts at street level. Clear.
“Đến đây!” I heard behind us, startling me, and making my blood run cold.
Breathe.
I shifted the girl around, holding her like an infant, tucking her legs into my side and bracing her head on my shoulder.
Breathe.
“Hold on,” I spoke.
She closed her eyes.
Breathe.
I ran in the direction of Tran’s police station, hoping beyond hope that there were a few officers there who didn’t reside in the back of Khanh’s pocket.
Breathe.
I ran, my lungs pumping air. My body desperate for oxygen, desperate for relief, desperate for some sort of sign that he was losing momentum, but I could still hear his dull steps behind me. He yelled at me repeatedly in Vietnamese.
“He tells you to come,” the small girl explained to me as we passed storefront after storefront, passing people with their strange looks but with no care other than to look upon us then carry on with their own business.
In the adrenaline rush, I made two split-second decisions that threw off my sense of direction and we ended up in an almost deserted part of the city, which I hadn’t thought possible. It looked like a dumping ground for the locals’ trash. Piles and piles of it lined the streets and the alleys.
Finally, the guy’s steps seemed to fade a bit. In desperation for rest, I ducked between two buildings when I saw an opening through to the other side. I kept running, although slower, not for a second thinking he’d given up. I could tell the guy was built for endurance. He hadn’t slowed because he needed to. He’d slowed because he wanted to.
When I reached the end of the byway, I had two choices. To my left, there was nothing but darkness and trash. To my right... the same. Jesus! Which way! Which way!
I heard what sounded like a metal can tumble across pavement a few yards behind us, maybe ten yards away.
Shit!
I sprinted right, running as fast and as hard as I could but was met with a dead end. Oh, Jesus! I just killed us both!
Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
My chest burned with such intensity I could barely stomach it.
I glanced behind me. He was close. My eyes searched my surroundings. Pitch black and seemingly nowhere else to go. The smell of the trash amassed against the sides was atrocious, burning my nose.
I threw the girl onto the ground and tossed what I could over her.
“Don’t move,” I told her. “Don’t say a word. Don’t breathe.” I peered over my shoulder. “And for the love of God, whatever you do, cover your ears and don’t look.”
Her eyes widened to impossible breadth and she nodded. She obeyed me and faced the wall. I covered her face as best I could and waited.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
My chest rose and fell violently. The rapid, thump, thump, thump of my heart drummed in my ears. Strapped to my sides rested my sharp blades. I unzipped my hoodie, crossed my arms, and palmed the knives’ handles.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
“Đến đây!” I heard again, making my pulse jump. My heart leapt into my throat. I crouched, bent my knees, readying for anything.
The speaker, the man chasing us, rushed around the edge of the building but came to a stop when he caught me standing. He smiled cruelly then spoke to me in Vietnamese, words I didn’t understand, and made his way toward me. He stopped short once more. His head tilted to his right. His eyes narrowed.
“You messed up,” he said in English, realizing I hadn’t understood him before and made his way toward me once more. The look on his face was one of pure menace. “I’m going to skin you alive,” he told me. “Then I’m going to take care of that girl personally. I’m going to ruin her,” he finished. The word ruin sparked the memory of Fin’s. “I’m ruined,” she’d told me. My body shook with a wrathful terror.
Breathe.
I shook my head, my tongue too thick to speak.
He was big for a local. I suppose that’s why they hired him to do what he did, but no matter. I was taller and built better. I also had something he didn’t. I was trained to kill. Animals, yes, but to me he was just that. An animal.
My blood boiled in my veins and the anxious adrenaline was replaced with an absolute hatred, a fury so destructive it frightened me. My teeth gritted in my jaw and I reveled in the pressure.
I knew it the instant he’d made the decision, and all the breath I’d held whooshed from my lungs. A look of determination flitted across his face and I could only smile, content in my malice. This visibly confused him but he charged forward, regardless.
Two feet within striking distance, my short blades pealed with a beautiful ring and it brought me such serenity. The gun strapped to his back was useless and he knew it.
I plunged both blades into his sides near his ribs and his mouth opened in shock, his body leaned against mine in support. I held him up with the blades and bent into his ear.
“You messed up,” I said, stealing his words.
Blood curdled from his mouth, and I removed my blades as he slid to the ground. I bent and wiped my knives off on his jacket. His mouth opened and shut like a fish out of water, but I couldn’t conjure up any compassion for him. Instead, I stood over him and placed my boot over his heaving chest, pressing as much of my weight into him as possible.
“You will burn in fire so scorching you’ll beg for this moment over and over again.”
His last breath struggled from his lungs and his eyes went blank. I replaced my knives and kicked the corpse to the side, covering his body as much as I could with garbage, hoping the smell would hide him and no one would find him for several days.
I turned back to her, fished her from her hiding place, and threw her over my shoulder. “Don’t look,” I ordered, and she nodded her head.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Finley
The morning came brilliant and dazzling. The day laid before me full of hope and gorgeousness. I was healing, helping those who were just like me, and in love with someone I never thought would love me back.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d been okay with that. I knew my worth. Through soul-searching and heart-building, I’d built myself up. I’d chipped away at the hard exterior, rough sense of self, and years of built-up hate, and exposed myself to the woman I’d become. Yet with that cleansing came a vulnerability I didn’t know I’d had, scars put upon me I did nothing to merit.
So, yes, I knew my worth. I knew I was worth anything and everything. I knew it. But I did need to make amends with those stripped-down burdens. I needed to shake them off, shed them at my feet, step out of them, and walk away without looking back.
It was a feat I could have done by myself. I was strong enough, but just because I could do it by myself, didn’t mean I had to.
In walked Ethan. Someone I’d fought hard to forget. Someone I’d crushed so hard on at one point in my life, I’d been convinced I’d been in love with him then. But knowing what it meant to love and to be loved, I discovered I’d only really been at the tipping point. It was a beautiful house, the tipping point, with its stolen glances, butterfly-induced nearness, and intoxicating presences.
And Ethan was that house. I’d backed down his hill, tumbled and fell, and rolled my way back down to its understory depths, content to find a different tipping point, secure I would discover a new place to climb, but that was not what fate had laid out for me, it seemed. No matter how I fought her, she was a resolute mercenary.
And so, reluctantly at first, I hiked up my skirts and marched upward, but this time w
ith the help of Ethan’s hand. This time he pulled me to him, shouldered my weight, up to the tipping point, that place bright and that lived under the sun. He’d wrapped his arms around my shoulders and we both fell, on toward the other side. The side full of green, burgeoning love. The side with lush, verdant, and passionate adoration with its redwood possibilities.
I showered and dressed for the day as usual, but my heart felt heavy. I thought of the envelope full of Ethan’s hair and took on that concern once more. My poor Ethan, I thought. What secrets he must keep. What heavy concerns sit cumbersome on your shoulders?
I helped Sister, who’d more than likely already been up for hours, finish laundry and set up the common room for school lessons. We laughed and joked with one another the entire time. She was eager to know the details of my “courtship,” as she’d put it, with Ethan, and I was in no hurry to divulge. I told her of his sweet dedication and thoughtful considerations but kept our tortured business to ourselves, as it was just that.
She sighed appropriately and fanned herself at all the right parts.
“Do you like him?” I asked her as we set the dining tables for breakfast.
“I really do,” she said but stopped folding a napkin.
“But?” I asked.
She continued with her task, remembering herself. “I can’t place my finger on it,” her French accent purred, “but there is something in that boy that gives me peace, security, but also frightens me.” She looked at me, earnest. “Is that not rubbish?” she laughed.
I swallowed back the fear her words built upon my heart and tried to smile, but failed miserably.
“My dear, I did not mean to make you uneasy. Come,” she said, extending her arms and rushing over to me, her skirts swishing about her. She bent me to her height and hugged me in that way a woman who knew how to love better than anyone in the world could hug. She ran her hands along my waves, smoothing it all out as she did so because she was a genuine mother at heart, despite her vows. Or, perhaps, because of them.
She released me and smiled so wide it didn’t seem like it could fit in her petite face, yet it was a pretty smile, a feminine smile, full of kindness and wisdom, sweetness, and understanding.
Ethan came into the room at that moment, his height an imposing thing, his presence a little appalling. He looked run-down with bags beneath his beautiful grey eyes. His shoulders looked glutted, straining against his T-shirt. His hands were fisted at his side. He breathed as though he’d run the entire length of the beach to me. His eyes frantically searched the room and when he caught my gaze, he stilled.
“Finley,” he gritted with that unbelievably deep voice that sent shivers up and down my body. He took one large, loud step with his boot, heading my direction, before noticing Sister was in the room.
“Oh,” he started, “I’m sorry, Sister. Hello, how are you?” he asked, stopping short and tucking his muscular arms behind him.
“I’m well, thank you, Mister Moonsong,” she answered back, but her eyes studied him anew. Finally, she smiled at him. “I’ll leave you two to greet the other.” She looked at us sternly. “Keep your hands clean,” she told us, but her ornery grin appeared as she left through the door toward the common room.
“Ethan,” I said, smiling at him.
I expected a smile in return, but he didn’t give me one. Instead, he rushed me, threw his arms around my waist, and buried his face in my neck. We stayed like that for quite some time. I refused to pull away until he did, so I wrapped my arms around his own neck tightly, letting him know we could stay there all day if he needed to.
Finally, he pulled away but held my hands in his. “Good morning,” he said.
I reached up and ran my thumbs beneath his eyes.
“You look so tired,” I whispered. “Why don’t you run back and get some rest. We don’t have much to do anyway.”
He shook his head. “No, I’ll, uh, just stay here with you, if that’s okay?”
“Okay, of course,” I told him.
“What were we supposed to do today?” he asked me.
“Well, Father had another bust planned but it fell through. Our informant’s told us the cell has no children they’re aware of. So strange, right?”
He nodded. “Yes, strange,” he parroted.
“Detective Tran called, though, says another girl was dropped off at his station early this morning. He can’t locate her family so she’s coming here.”
“Cool,” he said, but his face looked ill.
“Are you sure you don’t want to lay down? I hope you didn’t catch something.”
“No, I’m fine. Really, Fin. Just glad to be near you.”
We started walking toward the common room together.
“Tran is so bewildered by it all. He says he’s going to try to install cameras.”
“What does he want with the guy, I wonder?” he mused.
“Not sure. Maybe just to talk with him. Find out where he’s getting all those girls?”
Ethan’s face lit up with a large smile. “And how do they know it’s not a woman who’s dropping them off?”
“Because one of the first girls described a man, remember?”
“Yeah, but that could have been a fluke.”
“I don’t think so,” I told him.
“Maybe the locals are seeing it can be done and they’re finding and turning them in anonymously but as a collective.”
I shook my head. “That’s not likely.”
“Why not?” he insisted. “It could happen.”
I looked at him, confused.
“I-I guess,” I answered, though not believing that for a second.
Ethan fixed his expression. “Well, you’re right, that’s probably not likely. Anyway, who cares how they got there. Let’s just be glad they got there.”
“You’re right,” I told him, squeezing his hand.
Ethan
I couldn’t believe how careless I’d been. Akule would have been ashamed of me. I’d thought I was being vigilant, but the community that surrounded the traffickers was too tightly knit. I knew this. I was instantly recognizable too, which didn’t help at all. Too tall to be mistaken for anyone else; it was only a matter of time before I was caught.
My hands trembled at the memory of sliding the trafficker’s body off my knives. I knew why I’d needed to do it, knew the little girl had been my priority, but nothing could ever prepare you for taking another human’s life.
I remember seeing an interview back home while watching TV with my dad about this soldier who’d been stationed in Iraq. He knew his job had to be done and he’d told the interviewer he felt he’d been prepared for that job, mentally aware of the task that had to be done, but then the soldier went on to speak about the feeling that first kill earned him.
There’d been a known terrorist they’d been monitoring by drone and by foot for quite some time. They’d followed him and caught him planting IEDs along well-used and well-known American tank and humvee roads but had yet to catch or kill him. He was shifty and intelligent.
The soldier had been tasked to watch those roads and one day, on his drone patrol, he’d recognized the terrorist. The man was burying a bomb set to detonate and kill American soldiers. Without thinking, the soldier said he painted his target and sent in a fighter pilot.
In less than thirty seconds, the terrorist was dust. There was much celebrating and backslapping, but that soldier said he’d never forget the haunting aches in his chest knowing he was responsible for taking another’s life, even in defense of his fellow soldiers.
The interviewer asked him if he had a chance, would he do it all over again? The soldier, without hesitation, replied yes, but that it didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of the value of a human life.
See? Killing these men to save those girls is a necessary evil. They’re killing themselves, really, just by being part of the operations, I thought. Yeah, I’m just the instrument when you think about it. Those men needed to die. They needed death
.
I looked over at Finley. We’d gone outside to change a tire on one of the bikes that had gone flat. Her hair whipped around her face as she sat on her ankles, her hands tucked under her stomach, against her legs, waiting for me to ask for a tool. She was lovely. She was everything good that had ever happened to me, and I loved her with the fire of a million suns.
For her. I’ll do it for her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Finley
We were given a few free hours while the girls were in lessons. We told Sister we’d be swimming in the cove right outside of Slánaigh if she needed us. She promised she’d try to bring the girls down for a swim later, if they all got their work done. This possibility sent the girls into a tizzy, making me laugh.
“Get your work done, my loves!” I told them. “I’ll be waiting for you at the beach!”
Pen and paper went flying as Ethan and I made our way out the door. He hadn’t brought his boardshorts so he improvised with a pair of cargos instead.
We walked toward the water. I fought the instinct to run.
“What’s up with you?” I asked him.
“What?” he asked, distracted.
“You’re actin’ all weird. Seriously, what the hell is up?”
“I’m not acting weird,” he answered, defensive.
“Ethan.”
He kept silent and walked ahead of me, reaching the water before me and shedding his T-shirt.
“Whoa!” I said, examining his muscles. “What have you been doing?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ethan, your muscles are, like, huge all of a sudden. Have you been working out when I’m not around or something?”
“A little,” he said, sitting on the beach, resting his forearms on his knees.
“That’s crazy. You’re working all day with me, going on busts, and then working out? Tryin’ to kill yourself or something?” I laughed.
He whipped his head my direction. “Why would you ask me that?”
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