Chapter 4 - The Escape to the Slums
The toxic gas burned Matilda’s eyes and throat immediately.
Gabriel coughed violently, his weakened body unable to handle the chemical attack.
“Stand back,” Matilda coughed, tears streaming down her face.
She backed up in the narrow tunnel and threw her entire body weight against the iron door.
The heavy metal groaned, but it did not open.
She thought about the men laughing at her, about Carmine tripping her, about Lorenzo trying to murder his own blood.
A fierce, undeniable rage exploded in her chest.
She backed up again and kicked the lock with every ounce of strength she possessed.
The rusted hinges snapped with a deafening crack.
The door flew open, and they spilled out onto the cold concrete floor of the garage.
Matilda quickly pulled Gabriel to his feet, ignoring her own bruised shoulder.
The garage was empty, as all the guards were upstairs searching the mansion.
She spotted an old, unmarked delivery van used by the kitchen staff.
Matilda found the spare key hidden under the bumper, exactly where the chef always left it.
She hoisted Gabriel into the passenger seat and jumped behind the wheel.
She slammed on the gas, bursting through the wooden service gates and driving into the freezing Chicago night.
“Where are we going?” Gabriel asked, his eyes half-closed.
“My apartment in the south side slums,” she answered.
“They would never look for you in a place like that.”
Gabriel smiled weakly before passing out completely from the pain.
Matilda drove erratically, constantly checking her rearview mirror for black SUVs.
She finally parked in a dark, filthy alley behind her crumbling apartment building.
She carried Gabriel up four flights of stairs, her lungs burning from exertion.
She reached her apartment and unlocked the cheap wooden door.
She carried him inside and gently laid him on her small, worn-out sofa.
Matilda turned around to lock the door and grab her first-aid kit.
When she turned back toward the living room, the lights suddenly clicked on.
A tall man in a black trench coat was sitting in her only armchair.
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He held a suppressed pistol pointed directly at Gabriel’s head.
“You really shouldn’t bring strays home, Matilda,” the hitman smiled coldly.
