Dane

Heart pounding, and stomach singing with nerves and questions about everything—was Lila pregnant or not?— Dane turned from the bedroom and started across the Penthouse. He was pissed and fighting it as he stalked across the living room towards the kitchen.

​​

It was always the way. No matter what they did, no matter where they went, circumstances always conspired to keep them running. Never resting. There was never more than a moment of safety. He was done with it. When he and Lila ran, they were going for real. He was never coming back here, never going to deal with these people again—never going to live this way again. And he found he was… excited.

He was also scared shitless that they'd find him and Lila while they were still on the way wherever, of course. But excited anyway. This could work. John was magic with this stuff. And whether she was pregnant or not… they could find a place to rest.

For a moment he imagined himself somewhere remote, sitting on a couch with Lila laying her head on his lap while she read a book, like she had that first time in the apartment. No appointments. No phone calls. No responsibility.

Fucking heaven.

If they could find it.

Dane growled to himself as he reached the kitchen. There were too many balls in the air right now. Too many important things happening all at once. He wanted to give his time and attention to the important stuff. But he couldn't. Priority one had to be making Lila safe. But it also had to be staying with her, close by. Never leaving her alone.

They were both terrified of that.

But that meant he had to get out from under the eyes that would try to end both of them. The business, his reputation—none of that mattered. And he definitely didn't have time to coach Chris through a meltdown—which, judging by the color of Chris's face when he'd seen him in the bedroom, his brother was clearly getting ready to erupt into.

Of course, seeing Chris so agitated had actually helped soothe Dane. It had been a pattern between them their whole lives. When one was stressed, the other got really calm. Dane could always talk Chris down, and Chris could always make Dane see reason. But there wasn't time, now, for old habits and routines.

Presumably Chris had learned about Harry—which was good, they wouldn't have to waste time going back over the details.

He needed to get Lila out of here.

He needed to know if Chris knew anything about how it had happened, or what Doug's people had to do with it.

But he had to focus.

He definitely couldn't ask Lila what the result was in front of Chris. Which meant, he didn't know what she was going to need. So, he would grab as much of that box as he could, and some dry snacks, just in case. She'd been a little sick, she said—

"If you're changing the plan, you inform me! First!" Chris bellowed, stomping out of the bedroom behind him, to follow. "Do you have any idea how many balls I'm juggling out there with both of you gone?"

"I'm sorry," Dane called without looking back, turning into the kitchen and opening the pantry. "I'm grateful, Chris. Seriously. But this is bigger than that right now." He threw some granola bars and potato chips into the bag he'd thrown on the floor. "I'm assuming you heard about Harry. It had to be Felix—or whoever's running Dad's show."

"You think I don't know that?" Chris's voice was steely. If he wasn't in such a hurry, Dane would have rolled his eyes.

"Look, I only just found out—What do you know? How did it happen? What do the Police know about… everything?" Dane kept pulling food out of the pantry and dropping it into his bag, along with some plastic bags, and a couple drink bottles. What else might they need?

"That's what I was coming to tell Lila," Chris snapped. "Because I thought you had your head down!"

"What about Harry?" Lila piped up, her voice too high as she hurried towards them.

"He's dead," Chris hissed and Lila gasped.

Dane swallowed a pang of grief—his father, still getting people killed even after he was dead himself—as he burrowed through a drawer where he always hid the keys to the back-up car. "So, then you realize we only just learned this, right. Chris?"

"How? How did you learn this? Why didn't you tell me that you guys were together? Why am I still running my ass off out there if she's allowed to know—who else knows where you are, Dane?"

"No one," Dane lied. He was pretty sure John knew, but that would just piss Chris off for no gain. Those two already didn't like each other. "But look, I'm just getting my feet under me. The plan has only just changed in the past few minutes. That's why I didn't tell you."

"What plan? What change?!"

"No more Police," Dane said, digging through the medicines he always left in the cupboard in the kitchen so they were easy to find. "If they come for me, I'm running. In fact, I'm running anyway. Me and Lila can't be apart anymore. You need to know that we're both disappearing and that's going to leave you with the—"

A cold, hard, unmistakable click sounded behind him, and Dane sucked in, then whirled on the balls of his feet.

He had to blink several times to be certain of what he was seeing.

Chris stood in the opening between the entryway and the kitchen, a shocked Lila's arm grasped in his hand, and his gun to her temple.

Everything in Dane's head emptied out except the words, He Has a Gun.

Lila stared a Chris, her body pulling away from him. "Please," she whispered. "Please, no."

But Chris kept the barrel trained pressed against her skin, while he stared at Dane, breathing through his teeth. "You aren't going anywhere."

"Get. Your fucking hands. Off her," Dane snarled.