Cherry and I dart to the back office, and I make sure she’s inside before glancing back at the front of the warehouse. Nobody seems to have noticed yet, but I can’t count on that for long.
“Cherry,” I breathe, slamming the door behind us and looking back at her, “there’s a vent you can climb into here, just above that filing cabinet. Here, I’ll help you up. Stay here until things cool off, they won’t think to look for you.”
“Wait,” Cherry protests as I push her towards the cabinet, “what’s going to happen to you?!”
“I don’t know yet, Cherry. But if they’ve got us for the hit, then I’m sorry. You were right,” I admit, a grim look on my face, but Cherry’s face only shows concern for me.
“I don’t see how, it isn’t even that late yet, there’s no way they could know about — ”
Outside, I can hear footsteps getting closer, and the look on Cherry’s face tells me she’s heard it too. Without another word, I help her up, and she pries open the rusty vent shaft with little issue.
Whatever happens, Leon,” she says as she clambers in, casting another look at me as I watch her slip inside, “I love you.”
“I love you too, baby,” “I say, my meaning absolute with every word. She closes the vent over her, and without another moment, I dart for the window on the other side of office. It would look suspicious if I was just standing there, but I know what’s coming.
As if on cue, the door to the office smashes open just as my hands reach the window.
“That’s far enough, Mr. Volkov,” Agent Doyle says calmly, “you can keep your hands up against that window for us, thank you.” I can practically hear the smile on his face.
“Sorry, did we forget your invitation?” I ask, keeping still as I three county sheriffs surround me and pull my arms behind me.
“Leon Volkov,” Doyle proceeds, unfazed, “you are under arrest for obstruction of justice.”
42
Cherry
I hold my breath and watch in wide-eyed horror as Agent Doyle wrangles Leon’s arms behind his back and clinks the handcuffs around his wrists. Part of me wants to kick the vent back open and launch myself at him, tackle that smarmy asshole to the ground and bloody his nose for daring to put his hands on Leon. But I know that anything I do now will only exacerbate the issue. I can’t fight back that way. I’m not powerful enough to take anybody down with my strength (or lack thereof) and besides, we are outnumbered and outarmed. The feds have legally-recognized and sanctioned weapons to use against us, and I’m just a skinny, trembling girl curled up in a dust-caked air vent.
So I have to bite my tongue and try not to breathe deeply while Doyle and his black-suited lackeys drag Leon away in cuffs, placing him under arrest. My heart is hammering loudly and I’m terrified that they might actually hear it. I cautiously wrap my arms around my chest as though to muffle the sound, my lungs growing tight and painful from holding in my breath for this long.
I wish Leon had actually escaped through the window. Maybe then he would have had a fighting chance. And he would have been able to evade arrest if not for the fact that he wasted time trying to conceal me and keep me safe. As the men leave the back office with Leon, I’m struck with mingled gratitude and overwhelming guilt, realizing just how much Leon might have just sacrificed for me. He didn’t have to do that. He didn’t have to take up precious seconds helping me into this air vent. God knows he’s a fast enough runner — if only he had leaped out the window and took off into the sunset. But instead he put me first, willingly throwing himself under the bus just to give me a small chance at escape. And he did it without hesitation, without question, like it was an instinct rather than a conscious choice.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so protected and simultaneously so upset.
When I hear the last of the voices and scuffle fade away as everybody is either arrested and herded out the door or able to break free and run off, I take a deep breath at last. I want to punch myself in the face for letting Leon get in so much trouble over me.
Maybe if I had just minded my own business and stuck to my usual, stupid, pointless article content none of this would have happened. If I had just accepted my father’s death as accidental rather than trying to build some big, overblown conspiracy around it, Leon would be okay. But no, I just couldn’t keep myself out of trouble.
And now Leon is paying the price.
I sit here in the air vent beating myself up for what feels like at least an hour, too upset and afraid to move. I have no idea what to do, where to go from here. I’ve been following Leon’s directions, tailing after him like a dopey, lovesick puppy, too enraptured to admit that I’m in way over my head. God, how could I have been so stupid?