Page 9 of Hunted

Worst of all, it means attention. And attention gets people killed.

Homelessness isn’t an option when you’re running, and neither is poverty. Both make you visible.

I pace my apartment, cataloguing exits, doing everything except the one thing I don’t want to do. Outside, New York hums on, indifferent as ever.

Eventually, there are no distractions left.

I pick up my phone and scroll past numbers I trust and numbers I don’t until I reach the one I’ve been avoiding for days.

The name alone steadies me more than it should.

I hit call before I can change my mind. She answers on the second ring.

‘Yes?’ Her voice is dry, sharp, unsurprised.

‘I need to see you,’ I reply.

A throb of silence.

Then, ‘You know where to find me, child.’

I hang up and let my hand drop to my side.

When I look up, my gaze snags on the black glass tower cutting into the skyline, dark and unapologetic, watching the city like it owns it.

A cold certainty settles in my chest.

Running has bought me time, nothing more. Whatever’s coming was always going to find me.

I square my shoulders, already choosing my next move.

If I have to face it, I’ll do it on my feet.

2

FIVE YEARS AGO – NEW ORLEANS

Lyra, Age 19

The first time I cried after leaving home was the moment I realised I’d missed my own birthday.

By five days.

I’d been running for a year.

Long enough for my feet to harden and my name to feel dangerous in my own mouth.

But not long enough to forget.

Eighteen had been champagne and sunlight, friends spilling out of my bedroom at noon with cake, glitter and cheap prosecco we pretended was vintage. Laughter so loud my father shouted up the stairs for us to keep it down, even though he was smiling when he said it.

That night, we’d gone with Hannigan tradition: dinner at Bellamy’s, Dad in the tuxedo he rarely wore, my aunt clasping my hands across the table and telling me the world was mine if I was clever enough to claim it.

Halfway through, Dad had slid a velvet box towards me. Inside, diamond earrings caught the candlelight and made me feel luminous.

Loved.

Protected.