In an instant, panic spread as people rushed toward the exits. The crowd surged, bodies pressing toward doors, the particular chaos of civilians who've never had to evacuate under real threat.
In the chaos, Dominic immediately grabbed Penelope's hand, shielding her as they ran toward the emergency exit.
He didn't look back.
He didn't reach for me.
The Don of the Sloane family, a man who commanded soldiers and controlled territory across the Eastern Seaboard, had exactly one instinct when danger arrived, and it wasn't me. It had never been me.
I stood in the emptying corridor and watched them disappear through the exit doors, his hand on the small of her back, her stuffed animal still clutched to her chest, and I felt nothing. Not anger. Not hurt. Nothing. The nothing was worse than anything, because it meant the part of me that could be wounded by Dominic Sloane had finally died, and I hadn't even noticed the moment of its passing.
Five minutes later, the alarm was cleared. A false alarm.
Dominic returned to where we had been standing, looking around. His eyes scanned the area, but I was nowhere in sight.
Two hours later, I was at the train station, my suitcase in hand, waiting for my departure.
The station was a transitional space, neutral ground at the edge of no one's territory, filled with the anonymous movement of people whose lives didn't revolve around blood oaths and family allegiance. I sat on a metal bench with my suitcase between my knees and watched the departure board flicker.
My phone kept buzzing nonstop. Dominic's name flashed on the screen again and again, but I didn't bother answering. Instead, I set my phone to silent.
Right before boarding the train, I sent him one final message: We're done.
As soon as it was sent, I pulled out my SIM card and tossed it in the nearest trash can. It landed beside a coffee cup and a crumpled receipt, and that was the end of seven years. A SIM card in a trash can. The most important severance of my life, and it weighed less than a gram.
It was nearly midnight when I arrived at the station in my hometown. The coastal air hit me first, salt and cold and something green underneath it. Marchetti territory. The old neighborhood. A world away from the Sloane empire's concrete and glass.
As I stepped off the train, I saw Dad waiting for me.