Chapter 9 - The Rhythm of Survival
My heart was in my throat. If Leo kept screaming, they would pinpoint our location in seconds.
I couldn't force him to be quiet; panic doesn't respond to fear. I had to ground him. I had to reach the part of his brain that sought order amidst the madness.
I took Leo’s small, mud-caked hand and pressed his palm flat against my chest, right over my racing heart. With my other hand, I pressed against the hollow bark of the oak tree.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
I didn't whisper words; I hummed the exact four-beat frequency that Danny used to cling to during his worst storms.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Leo’s frantic rocking stuttered. His wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto mine in the darkness. Rain streamed down our faces.
One, two, three, four.
I tapped the rhythm onto his chest, steady and unyielding. You are here. You are breathing. You are loved.
The boy’s cries faded into a quiet, shuddering whimper. He wrapped his arms around my neck, burying his head beneath my collarbone, silencing himself completely. He had chosen courage over fear.
Above us, the beam of a high-powered flashlight cut through the mist, illuminating the leaves just inches from our hiding spot.
""Nothing down here,"" a mercenary grumbled in broken English. ""Keep moving toward the river.""
The footsteps began to recede. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
Suddenly, a twig snapped directly behind our tree.
A tall figure stepped out of the shadows, a suppressed pistol aimed directly at my forehead. It was Viktor Volkov himself—the ruthless head of the Russian syndicate. His face was twisted into a triumphant, sinister grin.
""Clever little nanny,"" Viktor sneered, cocking the hammer of the gun. ""You saved me the trouble of hunting you down. Hand the boy over, and I might make your death quick.""
I pulled Leo behind my back, using my own body as a shield. ""You'll have to kill me first.""
""With pleasure,"" Viktor spat, raising the barrel.
Before his finger could squeeze the trigger, a shadow dropped from the branches above like a wraith.
A combat knife flashed in the moonlight. Viktor let out a choked gasp as Dante drove the blade into his shoulder, tackling the syndicate leader to the ground with savage ferocity. The gun flew into the mud.
The two men rolled through the dirt, trading brutal, bone-cracking blows. Viktor was larger, but Dante was fueled by the primal rage of a father defending his family. Dante deflected a desperate punch, grabbed Viktor by the throat, and slammed him repeatedly against the jagged stones of the embankment until the Russian lay motionless, defeated and unconscious.
Dante knelt in the mud, panting heavily, his face covered in cuts and bruises, his tactical vest shredded.
He looked up. When his eyes found me and Leo sitting safely under the tree, the terrifying monster vanished. He slumped forward onto his knees, crawling toward us, burying his face in my lap as he wept openly.
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""You saved him,"" Dante choked out, his trembling hands reaching out to pull both of us into his embrace. ""You kept him safe.""
""We saved each other,"" I whispered, tangling my fingers in his dark hair, kissing his bruised brow as Leo reached out and patted his father's cheek.
