Page 23 of A Million To Fall

“And you’re not coming back. Ever. You’re not gonna call the cops. You’re not calling anyone. You’re gonna”—he motions his fingers like ashes scattering—“disappear.”

He places my phone on the cutting board, then swings the meat tenderizer and brings it down.

Crack.

The screen shatters, the casing explodes.

He does it again. And again.

Until there’s nothing left but shards of glass, pieces of plastic, twisted wires, and parts I can’t even name.

Eddie turns to me, the meat tenderizer still firmly in his hand. “And if you don’t, if you cause me any kind of trouble—if I even think you’re causing me trouble—I’m going to find you, Boston. And then I’ll make you watch as I kill first your momma, then your little sister, and lastly your little brother. And then I’ll kill you. Slowly. Do you understand me, Boston?”

I nod, breath ragged, my thoughts fragmented.

I know he’s not bluffing.

“Okay, good.” He pats my cheek with mock affection. “And just to show you I’m serious—”

Before I know what’s happening, Thing One to my left yanks my arm forward and slams my hand down on the cutting board. I barely register Eddie swinging the meat tenderizer before—

Crack.

White-hot pain detonates up my arm as the meat tenderizer smashes into my hand. I cry out, the edges of my vision going black.

Then again.

Crack.

My legs buckle, but I don’t fall—not with Eddie’s goons holding me upright. I’m shaking, breath trapped in my throat. My hand feels like nothing but shattered bone wrapped in skin.

Eddie crouches in front of me, tilting my chin up until our eyes meet. “You wouldn’t want me hurting Bronx or Cassie like this, right?”

I shake my head, unable to speak.

“That’s what I thought. We got a deal then, yeah?”

I nod.

They let go and I hit the ground, cradling my mangled hand to my chest.

“You have exactly sixty seconds to catch your breath, get to your feet, and get the fuck out of this place, Boston,” Eddie says cooly. “One. Two. Three…”

I suck in a breath—then another—and force my body upright. My legs don’t feel like my own, but at least they move, somehow carrying me out of the kitchen.

I catch a glimpse of my mom in the hallway, hands clamped to her mouth, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Our eyes lock. Just for a moment.

Then I open the door and step into the cold darkness, praying it’s enough to keep them safe.

twelve

Skye

“Skye. Skye? Miss Monroe, are you with us?”

Laughter detonates through the room, startling me. My eyes snap from the empty desk two rows to my left to my teacher at the front of the room.