Cara's pov
Dark, foggy and cold. The street was desolate, just like my heart. I shuffled down the run-down lane of a place I had no inkling what it was called. I'd strayed too far from the bus stop Dominic had dropped me off. I had no idea how much distance I'd covered. Walking aimlessly for days, I was drained and dehydrated but my legs seemed to have a mind and strength of their own that kept them going, my footsteps muffled by the strong wind blanketing the night.
Far away, I needed to get far away from Luca.
A chilly wind cut past me, making me shudder and I wrapped one hand around myself, the other gripping tightly on my slung duffel bag.
I dodged several plastic bags flying around in the air, avoided a murky puddle and pressed on. The streets grew even darker as I walked further into the night, I was losing moonlight and needed to find somewhere to rest for the night. Somewhere proper this time, not the cardboard shack I'd been subjecting myself to. Right before we parted, Dominic had handed me a wad of cash. I better start making use of it.
My lungs burned from all the cold they've been exposed to. I needed to find a place to stay before I die out here from pneumonia.
A bitter chuckle left me as I found humor in my sick thoughts, dying in such a pathetic way might even be the best thing. A dead Cara can no longer bring harm to Luca.
The fog soon cleared out and out of my peripheral vision, a dim neon light blinked on the other side of the street. I immediately panned to it, relief flooding my veins as my eyes settled on the source of the light-a sign that read 'Abby's Motel' in capital letters, sitting on top of a small duplex building.
I cut across the street, heading right for it
The place looked even smaller on the inside. A plump woman sitting behind the counter noticed me immediately. She gave me a once-over as I approached, her puffy eyes calculating and glinting at the prospect of a new customer.
"Oh, hello and welcome." She said in a slimy voice that instantly made her untrustworthy. I tugged her jacket tighter around myself to conceal my loaded gun better. For whatever may happen, I wanted to have the element of surprise on my side. True to our agreement, Dominic had provided enough bullets to reload the glock several times over.
I cleared my throat before speaking, "I need a room." The words sounded weird out of my mouth-foreign, like speaking was something that was no longer natural to me. I guess, going days without saying a word does that to anyone.
"Ah, yes." The motelier grinned at me. "I have lots of that." Her eyes scanned me. "Seeing how tired you look, I'm willing to give you my finest room. You see, this room is not available on Fridays but I'm willing to give it to you."
How kind.
I stared blankly at her, not missing the glint of unmistakable greed in her dancing in her eyes. I bet this so called room was just the same as every other one and she was just trying to sell me an illusion of special treatment to milk as much money as she could. Something she probably did with all of her customers.
"How much is it?" I asked, wary.
Her uncomfortable grin widened. Shameless, she responded, "a hundred for a night."
I scoffed under my breath.
A hundred dollars a night for a room that probably had holes in the walls. On a normal day, I would have gone at it with her, beat her at her own game but I was too tired to argue.
Too dejected to even complain.
"Whatever," I sighed before unzipping my duffel. I pulled out three Benjamin Franklin notes and slapped them on the counter. "For three nights."
"Alrighty," she drawled, flicking the mint bill before slipping them into the cash register. When her hand returned to the countertop, she had a little key with a keychain that read "012".
"Enjoy your stay." She said, her voice dripping with insincerity.
I ignored her and walked up the creaky staircase, her annoying voice repeating, "enjoy!" behind me.
I moved down the narrow hallway with flickering overhead light that ironically reminded me over my first apartment, squinting at every door as I looked for the one that matched the number on the keychain. I found it right at the end of the long hallway.
I stared at the wooden mess, the red paint chipped and faded. Light on the other side pierced through the tiny holes. With a deep breath, I shoved the key into the rusty keyhole, twisted and pushed the door open.
And I nearly had a heart attack as a rat suddenly zoomed out of the room and down the hallway, disappearing into the shadows.
I stood there in disbelief, my heart pounding against my ribs. "Sure, the finest," I muttered bitterly, and then I went inside.
The room was expectedly shabby like the rest of the building, with peeling paint and a singular grime-streaked window with an old desk. Packed on the other end of the small space was a narrow bed with metal frame.
I dropped my duffel on the desk, my gun as well, and I headed over to the bed, the hinges protesting loudly as I dropped on the beat up mattress. I wiggled around to get comfortable, earning more groans from the bad bed.
The moment I got into the right position, the moment I went still, the thoughts I'd been putting off all day attacked me.
It has been a running thing since I ran from Luca-wandering and avoiding until I find somewhere to retire for the night and can no longer pretend the visceral pain I feel isn't there. Until I can no longer try to ignore the hollow feeling that gnawed at my chest.
My mind drifted back to the events I'd been trying to escape, the choices I had made, and that one moment I wished I could undo. The walls seemed to close in around me as each vicious memory of that night at the old port ruthlessly unfolded.
I could still see Luca's face, hear the brokenness in his voice as Manuel dropped dead. I could still remember his open gasp as he took Alexei's bullet for my sake. He'd protected me even when I'd cost him his father's life.
I shut my eyes tightly even as tears slipped through, my heart aching violently. "It's all my fault," I whispered to the ceiling. "Everything is my fault."
I yearned to know what happened after the disaster, the desire to find out how Luca was doing was eating me alive. I had to remind myself that leaving him was for the best, that I needed to protect him.
"You did the right thing," I told myself. But the pain didn't ease; if anything, it grew sharper, digging in as if mocking my decision. If I was being completely honest with myself, I didn't know if I was strong enough to stay away from Luca.
My stomach growled loudly, protesting the state of starvation I'd subjected it to. Quickly using it as an excuse to escape my drowning thoughts, I lazily lifted myself off the creaking bed, intent on going outside. I knew I wasn't going to get food, I haven't had a proper meal in days nor did I have an appetite, I was just going to wander again.
I rose to my feet and staggered to the desk, grabbed a singular hundred dollar bill from my duffel before shoving it into the front pocket of my jacket, following it was my gun. I was immediately filled with a strange sense of security. Knowing I was prepared if anyone dared to mess with me brought me some sort of comfort.
I stuffed my duffel under the bed and made my way out of the room, making sure to lock the door before leaving.
The motelier barely glanced up when I made it back to the reception area, her eyes fixed on the old television behind her desk. Her new indifference didn't bother me, it was clear she no longer had to pander to me now she's gotten her payment.
It was what I wanted too-a place where no one cared enough to ask questions, to notice the tension that clung to me like a second skin. I was a stranger passing by, and that suited me just fine.
The chilly air hit me once I made it outside and I masochistically welcomed it as the loud judging voices in my head slowly drowned out. I stuffed my hands into my jacket, my fingers brushing against the cold hilt of my loaded gun and I began walking nowhere in particular.
I debated my next move. Leaving Chicago seemed like the only way forward. Luca's shadow loomed over every street, every corner. I couldn't shake the feeling that if I stayed here, I'd end up right back in his orbit. I had to get away from city-from the memories, from the lingering ghost of Manuel Salvatore.
But leaving would have to wait.
My final exams was just around the corner and I just needed to finish school right under Luca's nose before I disappear forever-move somewhere he'd never think to look, and spend the rest of my life trying to forget him.
After walking a couple blocks and past more hookers and their leery customers, a convenience store finally appeared, the bright light inside indicating it was still open. I slipped inside, instantly drawn to the alcohol section.
The cashier kept giving me flirty looks when I came up to the counter. Ignoring him, I dropped a four pack of canned beer, a large bag of chips and a bottle of water and waited for him to ring me up.
When I returned to the motel, I could tell something was off. The motelier was nowhere to be found at her desk. The TV was still on and a half eaten donut sat on a foil on the chipped wooden desk. I looked up at the stairs, hesitating before climbing up the weak steps.
I collided into her the second I got to the landing.
"Shit," I ground out the same time she exclaimed a loud, "sweet baby Jesus".
She jumped back as I held the banister to keep from tumbling back down the stairs. My stare was intolerant when I met her gaze and something about the way she quickly avoided looking into my eyes struck me as off. Gone was her patronising grin or recent indifference. Whatever was left was something more... nervous.
"Oh my, that could have gone very badly. I didn't know when you stepped out." She pushed out in a breath.
I said nothing, feeling a heightening sense of wariness.
She plastered on her unsettling grin and somehow, it seemed more off than it was. "I hope you like the room."
"It's decent." I felt obliged to answer, my nerves kicking off. My eyes darted down the hallway and back to her, questioning.
She caught on immediately, "oh, I was just preparing a room for a customer that called ahead." She provided.
I didn't point out how fast that took her considering she was just at her desk like five minutes ago.
My silence must have unsettled her because she suddenly rushed to say, "Alright then, if you'd excuse me I need to get back to work. Have a lovely night."
I watched her disappear down the stairs before turning slowly to the direction of the hallway, my hesitation returning. My instincts went on high alert as I walked down to my room, each step feeling heavier than the last. When I got to the door, I hesitated again, fingers hovering over the handle.
After one deep breath, I tentatively turned the handle. The door was locked, just as I had left it, but it didn't end my agitation.
There was a faint shuffling coming from inside.
My heart began to pound faster than it already was. Someone was in there. Someone that shouldn't be.
Slowly, I quietly dropped my plastic bag to the floor and without a second thought, I bolted. My feet leaving loud thumps in their wake. Behind me, the door to my room swung open with a force that reverberated down the hallway and heavy footsteps thundered after me.
I pushed myself to go faster, adrenaline spurring me forward. I didn't dare look back to tell who my chaser was, it was hardly important. The cold, predatory energy told me enough.