Homeless

Chapter 18

"Found you."

I froze when the cold, raspy voice registered. My eyes adjusted to the dark alley, and I saw a man I never wished to see again standing before me, his hand on Mark's mouth.

Logan, one of the guards back at the House, grinned widely. A gray hoodie shadowed his features. Mark struggled, but he was no match for a grown man. Logan's beady eyes sparkled with satisfaction, his jaw covered in a dark scruff that hadn't been there the last time I saw him.

"You thought you were smart, eh?" he asked, then tightened his grip on Mark's face until Mark whimpered. "Stop moving, you little prick."

"Get your hands away from him," I hissed, taking a step towards him. Logan clicked his tongue and flashed a knife. The metal glinted against Mark's neck. I froze.

"One move and your precious little brother will die."

My gaze flickered to Mark. His eyes were wide, the blue nothing but a ring of color around big, dark pupils. His face looked ashen in the darkness of the alley.

The entrance of the narrow alley was farther than I expected. The sounds of the city reached us from a distance, cars and conversation and horns. It was as if we were alone in our own dark bubble.

"Now that we're all calm, let's talk." Logan licked his lips, leveling me with a cold smile. "You messed up big time, Little Blue. You made our life a living hell. You know what the guards have been through after you escaped?"

I clenched my jaw. My brain ran in circles for a plan. My hand slowly sneaked around to touch the knife in the back of my pants. All I needed was a distraction.

"We finally got a lead on you. You're a really smart bitch, aren't you? Sticking with rich people."

My heart almost stopped. He knew about them. He knew about Nathaniel and Claire. Logan chuckled darkly. "Oh yeah, we know about your little boyfriend. You've upset people in some very high places. And when I take you back, I'll have a generous tip. So here's how this is going to go-"

Shrill screams interrupted him. A bunch of children walked by the entrance of the alley, playing around with each other and screaming their little lungs out.

Logan's head snapped to the side for a second. One second. But it was enough.

My knife was out and unfolded in a moment. I stabbed it down Logan's fleshy arm. He cried out, dropping his weapon.

I jerked Mark away from his hold, pushed him away then snatched Logan's dagger from the ground.

"You bitch," Logan grunted. I swung the knife wildly his way. He staggered back. My knife was still buried in his arm, and blood darkened his hoodie.

I moved back toward the entrance of the alley, Mark behind me.

Logan's eyes sobered from the pain when he noticed the direction of my movement. I flung the knife at him and turned, running away with Mark.

Logan's curses echoed behind us. I clutched Mark's hand, and we made it out of the alley, stumbling into people on the sidewalk.

Mark and I ran like our lives depended on it, because they did. People gave us a wide berth. I glanced over my shoulder. I bumped into someone. My bag fell down.

Logan ran out of the alley, blood darkening his sleeve and dripping down his hand. He looked around, a deadly scowl on his face. Driven by the sight of that bastard, I dragged Mark and ran faster.

Home. We had to get home. It took me a moment to realize where we were. My body must have instinctively followed the way home. We were only a couple of blocks away.