Chapter 17 Stranger's Help
Amelia
A door opened. Warmer air hit my face. The scent of an old carpet and the aroma of someone cooking dinner filled the air.
"Two flights of stairs," Elena warned. "Take your time."
We climbed slowly. My legs protested with every step, but I forced myself to keep moving.
Another door. A key turning.
"Welcome to my humble apartment," Elena said, and I could hear the smile in her voice even though I couldn't see it. "It's not much, but it's safe. Come on, let's get you to the bathroom and clean you up."
She led me through what felt like a small space—I could hear our footsteps echoing slightly off close walls. Then into a smaller room that smelt like soap and mint.
"Sit here," she said, guiding me to what felt like a toilet lid. "Let me get the first aid kit."
I sat, finally still, off the street, and felt the adrenaline start to drain away. In its place came pain. And exhaustion. There was an overwhelming urge to cry.
"Okay, let's see the damage," Elena said, returning. "Your hands first. The scratches might sting."
She was gentle as she cleaned the scrapes on my palms. I winced but didn't pull away.
"These aren't too bad," she said. "Mostly just scraped up. I'll put some antibiotic ointment on them. What about your face? Someone hit you?"
"Yeah."
"Bastards." She dabbed at my cheek with something wet. "Not too swollen. You'll probably have a bruise, but nothing's broken. Your shoulder?" she asked.
"It hurts when I move it."
"Probably just bruised too, but if it gets worse, you should see a doctor." She finished bandaging my hands. "There. It's not perfect, but it's definitely better. You hungry?"
I shook my head. I felt nauseous, actually.
"How about some water? You should drink something."
"Okay."
She left and came back with a glass. Pressed it into my bandaged hands carefully.
I drank. The water was cold and tasted faintly of metal from the pipes, but it was the best thing I'd had all day.
"So," Elena said, and I could hear her sitting down on something—the edge of a bathtub, maybe. "Want to tell me what happened? You don't have to, but I'm here if you want to talk."
Where did I even start?
"I was working at a bar," I said slowly. "Crimson. Do you know it?"
"I know of it. Rough place."
"The owner gave me a job and a room. But some of the other girls didn't like me. Today, while he was gone..." I swallowed. "They dragged me out. Locked me out. I had nowhere to go."
"Jesus." Elena sounded genuinely angry. "That's messed up. You can't go back there?"
"No. They made it clear I'm not welcome."
"What about family? Friends?"
"No one. I aged out of the orphanage a couple weeks ago. This was supposed to be my fresh start."
Silence. Then Elena's hand found mine, squeezing gently around the bandages.
"Okay, here's what's going to happen," she said firmly. "You're staying here tonight. I have a couch that's surprisingly comfortable. Tomorrow, we'll figure out next steps. But right now, you need rest."
"I can't impose—"
"You're not imposing. I'm offering. There's a difference." She stood up. "Come on. Let me show you where you can sleep."
She led me out of the bathroom, through the small apartment, and had me sit on what was indeed a surprisingly comfortable couch.
"I'll get you a blanket and pillow. Do you need anything else? Different clothes? These look..." She trailed off.
I was still wearing the dress from Crimson. Torn now, dirty from being dragged downstairs and thrown onto pavement.
"If you have something I could borrow," I said quietly.
"Of course. Be right back."
She returned with soft fabric—sweatpants and a t-shirt that smelt like laundry detergent.
"Bathroom's straight behind you, about six feet. Change in there, then come back and get some rest."
I managed to change, though my shoulder protested every movement. When I came back out, Elena helped me lie down on the couch and tucked a blanket around me.
"Thank you," I whispered. "You didn't have to do any of this."
"Yeah, I did. Nobody deserves to be left on the street like that." She paused. "Get some sleep, Amelia. We'll talk more in the morning."
I heard her move away and heard a door close—her bedroom, probably.
I lay there in the darkness, in this stranger's apartment, and felt the tears finally come.
Silent tears that soaked into the pillow Elena had given me.
I'd lost everything. Again.
I had lost my job, my room, and the little security I had managed to make out.
All gone.
But I was alive. Safe, for now at least.
And for the first time since leaving St Mary's, someone had shown me genuine kindness.
Not because they wanted something. Not because they pitied me. Just because it was the right thing to do.
Elena didn't know me. Didn't owe me anything.
But she'd taken me in anyway.
Maybe, I thought as exhaustion finally pulled me under, maybe not everyone in this city was cruel.
Maybe I'd just been looking in the wrong places.
ELENA
I lay in bed, staring at my ceiling, thinking about the blind girl sleeping on my couch.
Amelia.
She'd been beaten, thrown out of where she'd been working, and left to fend for herself on one of the most dangerous blocks in the neighbourhood.
And she was blind.
Jesus Christ.
I'd seen a lot of messed-up things working at Sam's Diner, but this... this was something else.
My phone buzzed. A text from my boyfriend Miguel: Still coming over tomorrow?
I replied, "Yes, but I have a situation."' Girl staying with me tonight. Long story. Will explain tomorrow.
His response: You okay?
I'm fine. She's not. But we'll figure it out.
I set my phone down and rolled over.
Tomorrow, I'd call in a favour. My boss Sam knew people. Perhaps someone needed a dishwasher or cleaning assistance. Something Amelia could do that wouldn't put her in danger.
Because she sure as hell wasn't going back to Crimson.
Not if I had anything to say about it.
JADE
"Nina's back," Ashley hissed, rushing into the dressing room where I was touching up my makeup.
"So?"
"So she's asking where Amelia is."
I rolled my eyes. "Tell her what we agreed. Amelia quit. She was unable to cope with the workload. Left on her own."
"She doesn't look like she's buying it."
"Then sell it better." I turned to face her. "We all have the same story, remember? She quit. We don't know where she went. That's it."
Ashley nodded nervously and left.
I went back to my makeup.
Nina might suspect something, but she couldn't prove anything. And by the time Marco gets back tomorrow, it will be ancient history.
Amelia was gone.
And good riddance.
JEREMY
The warehouse situation had taken all night to resolve.
By the time we'd dealt with the Volkov crew's attack, questioned the survivors, and made sure our people were taken care of, the sun was coming up.
I was utterly exhausted. Covered in other people's blood. And all I could think about was that I'd left Amelia sitting in that room.
Again.
I pulled out my phone and texted Marco: Is she working tonight?
No response. He was probably asleep.
I'd go by Crimson tomorrow. Try to explain why I kept leaving. Try to figure out what the hell I was doing.
Because Victoria was right—I was getting attached.
And in my world, that was dangerous.
But I couldn't seem to stop myself.