Bad Boy Judah

f i f t y

"And you Raniero's are hard to find," a voice springs up from the other end of the corridor.

I jump and gasp, startled. Immediately, Judah stands in front of me, shielding me from whatever harm is coming.

"Get the fuck out of here," Judah throws in a low voice, "Heath."

"Gladly," the stranger in black replies.

Right away, I recognize the two sketchy men beside him as the ones who were keeping tabs on me inside the mall. Who knows how long they've been spying on me... Judah always refuses to tell me the truth... all of the truth.

The one thing I hoped wouldn't happen... unfolds right in front of my apartment door.

My skin sweats. They found us.

If I had just... If I had never crossed paths with Judah-If I had just listened to my gut and pushed him away... pushed him when I had some strength left! Rosalie, you're an idiot for even thinking-for a split second-that you could trust Judah.

Ryder is alone inside the room. I want to get him and run. But now is too late.

The stranger, who clearly wishes for Judah's demise, walks a few menacing steps closer. The others smirk, as though they won the jackpot.

"But first," he says, "We'll take the kid."

I'm two seconds away from fainting. My body shakes like a leaf and tears build up in my eyes, because I know this is it.

I hate Judah. He's calm and collected, though. Not even his hands shake with worry. What is on his mind?

"You'd have to kill me," Judah shakes his head, rubbing his jaw.

The men grin. My heart drops when I watch them reach into their leather coats.

Judah, swifter, pulls out his gun first.

Gunshots go off.

My back hits the wall, as I nearly fall over just from the sound of danger. Suddenly, more men race up the stairway.

I turn and run inside my apartment. As fast as I can, I lift little Ryder, who's already awake and in shock, in my arms. 

I rush towards the fire escape ladders. Just when I get a few stairs down, I hear glass break above my head. Curses drop out of my mouth.

My heart beats in my chest, as I run down the emergency staircase. Going down too fast and too clumsily, metal scrapes my elbow, and my bare foot trips in between steps. 

"Mo-ommy!" little Ryder cries, clutching onto me tightly.

Breathing heavily creates vapors from the cold temperature that I must deal with. My brain is a train wreck.

Ryder's screaming, but I try to shush him. We mustn't be found. We can't.

I jump in the mucky puddles and hide behind the dumpster.

"Mommy!" he panics.

"Be quiet!" I hiss, covering his mouth. "Be. Quiet."

He sticks his head into my chest, which muffles his cries. I keep still, even though my lungs pant for air. We both shiver. I wrap little Ryder in my knit pullover. Sirens are audible in the distance. Oh God, what do I do? What do they even want with us?

Ryder doesn't know. He doesn't understand. He's only three years old.

My hand rubs little Ryder's back, to calm him down. It all happened so fast and I'm sure it's far from over.