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He keeps a hold of my purse. The strap on my shoulder breaks, sending everything flying out and scattering across the dark alley. Still, I run, letting go of the white bag to flee.
My heel catches on a crack. My heart races as my hands fly out in front, and I tumble forward, my heel breaking. Catching myself on the dumpster, I pause enough to hear him laugh before I take off out of the alley.
Whipping my head from side to side, I frantically search for anyone else. Anyone to save me. Yet, the entire street stands empty.
Behind me, heavy footsteps draw nearer. “You no can run. I will always find you.”
I dart around the corner, running into the front entrance of my apartment building. My entire body shakes as I hobble on my broken heel, still I force my legs to keep moving.
“Hanale, elevator,” I croak, barely glancing at the concierge. Only him, Damien, and a few others have access to the top-floor condo. I don't. A bitter laugh turns to tears as it stings its way up.
Home.
It's not my home. My daddy is right. I don't belong here.
The darkness creeps in.
“Ma'am,” he keeps his voice calm as I pass by the front desk, “Mr. Aolani is at the gym on the second floor.” He holds out a tissue. “Perhaps you would prefer to freshen up first?”
“Yes, thank you.” The words sting my throat, but I take the offered napkin.
Drying my eyes, I continue to the elevator. My bottom lip wobbles as I stare at the reflective wall.
I don't belong on the top floor of anything. I'm dirty. Used. Trash.
I can't let Damien see me like this. He'll know exactly what I am. Sighing, I wipe my eyes again, scrubbing off all of my mascara, then step closer to inspect the damage. My ankle twists on the broken heel. I kick my shoes off, then run my fingers through my hair, moving it to frame my neck and hide the redness.
As the doors to the elevator open, I pick my broken shoes up, then walk onto the second floor. After dropping my heels in a garbage can, I enter the gym, forcing a smile.
“Kalena!” Damien's voice echoes through the expansive room. “Where were you?”
He stands in the center of the boxing ring, wearing only a pair of shorts and gloves, sparring with another guy. His tattooed torso glistens with perspiration as he delivers a punch right to the face of the other guy, sending him falling to the floor.
Dorian sits in a metal folding chair beside the ring. His dark eyes stare up and down my body.A sly smile spreads across his lips.
My feet falter.My bare toes sink into the soft mat covering the entire floor. My heart plummets to my stomach. Darkness creeps in. I need to escape.
I reach for my purse. But it's not on my shoulder. The bag. The powder. I don't have it. It's gone, out in the alley. I stare down at my bare toes, trying not to panic.
It does little to help. The bright, incandescent lights fade even more. My lungs burn.
“I found her,” Damien's voice cuts through my fog as the sound of his gloves falling to the floor echoes around the room. “Stop looking.”
I glance up.He ducks under the rope, hopping out of the ring. Handing a little walkie-talkie thing to his brother, he nods at the guy on the floor. “Finish him.”
The smile on Dorian’s face grows as he pulls out a pair of wraps and unrolls them.
“Where were you?” Damien asks, his voice hushed as he strolls up to me. He reaches out, running his finger along my chin.
I swallow, trying not to flinch. It stings. The bright-red wraps winding up his hands and wrists flex with each slight movement, like the wrappings of a mummy. Blood red.
My head swims. “I-I . . .” I blink, jerking my eyes from his hands to his face. “I went for a walk . . . On the beach.”
He glances down at my bare feet. “Where are your shoes?”
“Um . . . I took them off and must have forgotten them.” I force a smile, tucking one foot under my other. “Silly me.”
The doors behind me burst open. Steps approach as I hold my breath. Damien glances that way. The glint in his eyes, the soft spot he only shows me, disappears, replaced with the hard set of his chin.
