Chapter 7 - The Cornered Wolf
My fingers slammed against the cold iron grate of the storm drain. The silver chain snapped, but my fingers closed tightly around the heart-shaped medallion just a second before it could slip into the abyss.
I held it against my chest, gasping for air, my knees scraped and bleeding. The cold rain poured over me, but inside, I felt an incredible, burning warmth. I had it. A piece of my mother.
A shadow fell over me.
I looked up. Eleanor was standing over me, her face twisted in a mask of pure desperation. She didn't have her wealth, her status, or her husband anymore. She was completely broken, and that made her dangerous. She reached into her purse again, and this time, she pulled out a small, heavy silver revolver.
"If I'm going to prison, Avery," she whispered, her voice chillingly calm now. "I'm going to make sure I finish the job."
She raised the gun, aiming it directly at my chest. My heart hammered against my ribs. My hand automatically reached for my jacket pocket, looking for my inhaler, my chest tightening from the cold air and stress.
Click.
The sound of the gun being cocked echoed in the narrow alleyway. I closed my eyes, preparing for the impact.
Bang!
The sound was deafening. But I didn't feel pain.
I opened my eyes to see Eleanor stumbling backward, her gun flying from her hand and skidding across the wet pavement. Detective Vance stood at the entrance of the alley, his service weapon drawn, smoke curling from the barrel. He had shot her in the shoulder.
Eleanor collapsed against the brick wall, clutching her bleeding arm, screaming in agony.
"Drop your weapon! Stay on the ground!" Vance shouted, rushing forward as several uniform officers flooded the alley, moving past him to pin Eleanor to the ground and snap handcuffs onto her wrists.
Julian and Aunt Mara ran out from the building doors, breathless and soaked. Julian knelt beside me, helping me up from the wet asphalt. "Are you okay? Avery, breathe, just breathe."
May you like
I pulled my hand away from my chest and opened my fingers. In the palm of my hand lay the silver locket. Despite the dirt and the rain, it caught the dim city light, shining brilliantly.
"I'm okay," I whispered, taking a deep, clear breath without needing my inhaler. The suffocating weight that had pressed down on my lungs for twenty-six years was finally gone. "I'm finally okay."
