Page 58 of Hush, Little Baby

“He’ll understand that this way is better. If I tried to date him like a normal person, it would be forever before he would allow me to step in and help. This way, he has no choice but to accept my care.”

“That’s a nice way to frame it,” Constantine chuckles.

The car keeps moving as the two of them continue discussing me like I’m not literally in one of their laps.

I lose track of time as their conversation ebbs and flows, switching back and forth from me to what I presume are business matters. I’m still not sure what kind of business they’re in. The longer I’m with them, though, the more I become convinced that they have to be some sort of gangsters. I genuinely have no other guesses. Or maybe all rich business people are actually insane, and I just haven’t noticed because I’ve never met one before?

I’m still contemplating this when Constantine looks out the window before slipping his phone into his pocket. “We’re almost there.”

There.

The word drops through me, my breathing instantly speeding up.

This is it. This is the point of no return. And I’ve done nothing but sit quietly in my captor’s lap as I’m driven to my doom.

Nikolaus murmurs to me, “You can hide if you need to.”

And I do. Just as I have been for the past several hours.

I grip his jacket in one hand, still clutching my blankie in the other. I can feel the solid shape of his body against my own—huge and dangerous, and mine to hide in, apparently, because my brain has lost every ounce of dignity it once pretended to have.

“Good boy,” he whispers as the car stops.

I hear a door open. Constantine gets out first, his shoes hitting the pavement. A cool gust of air slips into the car, carrying the smell of fuel, morning, and open space.

I feel like throwing up.

“Easy,” Nikolaus says, sliding his arm under my knees. “I’ve got you.” The car door beside us opens, and then I am being lifted.

I have enough awareness left to know how humiliating this is.

I am twenty-five years old. I can walk. I have legs. They even have shoes on them now, white sneakers that Constantine declared acceptable.

But when Nikolaus carries me out of the car, I’m frozen from fear. Unable to do anything but tense every single muscle in my body. I hate this dumb freeze response. It makes me feel so useless.

The air on the runway is cold enough to make me shiver. Or maybe I’m shaking for other reasons, I’m not sure. Nikolaus wraps his jacket partly around my side, and my face stays buried in the hollow between his shoulder and chest.

I hear the plane before I see it. It isn’t even that loud, really, but it’s a deep humming that is ever-present.

The sound makes me release a sad whimper.

“I know,” Nikolaus says into my hair. “I know, sweetheart. You don’t have to look.”

So I don’t.

I let the world become pieces again.

Nikolaus’s arms.

My blankie against my cheek.

Constantine’s voice ahead of us, calm and businesslike.

Another man’s voice answering.

The faint slap of cool wind against my ears.

The hollow metal sound of Nikolaus’s shoes on the stairs.