Page 30 of Silver Sinner

"Cops!!"

The man dies in a gurgle of blood as Adrian shoots him once in the throat, but the man's scream is the spark that ignites panic in the rest of the gang.

Adrian and I lead the way through the door, opening fire at the various men and women spilling about inside the makeshift garage.

They yell at one another, opening fire without a second thought and ducking between the hollowed-out shells of several cars.

I dart to the left through the door and fire clean shots, each bullet landing in the leg or throat of one of the assailants.

The heat clings to my skin and clogs my throat as I duck behind a counter and narrowly avoid three bullets that come my way. This kind of wild firing pisses me off, especially if Maddie is in here somewhere.

But just as quickly as the firefight starts, Adrian's methodical way of sweeping an area brings silence as every person with a gun in their hand ends up dead. I peek over the counter and watch him check every body, and then I see it.

Layla's car.

All thought of safety flees my mind as I throw myself forward, my blood cold with fear that a stray bullet from one of these fuckers could have landed anywhere close to the vehicle. Two bullet holes indent on the trunk but thankfully, that's it.

I lower my gun and peer through the back window, my heart in my throat.

Maddie.

"You got the kid?" comes Adrian's voice while he fires one more bullet.

My fingers skim the door handle and I open it as gently as I can, bringing Maddie's sleeping face into full view. She doesn't react, not a sound or even movement as I unclasp the straps around her seat and very gently scoop her up into my arms.

Other than a sigh, she remains completely asleep and relief rushes through me in a hot wave.

"I've got her," I say, meeting my brother's relieved gaze. "Let's get her home."

9

LAYLA

"I don't know, okay? I don't know who they were! I'd never seen them before! They just appeared at my car and I—" The words catch in my throat and tears continue to leak down my cheeks, even as I sink my teeth into my lower lip.

The only thing keeping me still and seated is Moses. He sits in front of me with his deft fingers applying three butterfly stitches to the gash across my brow, while the police officer who turned up after my phone call asks me the most idiotic questions I've ever heard.

"Did you notice anyone hanging around your car during your other shifts?"

"No! I don't… I don't always drive. I usually walk, but I had Maddie today, so I took the car so it would be easier…" My head dips down but before I can give in to the despair. Moses gently lifts my head back up with a curl of his finger under my chin.

"Almost done," he says quietly.

"What about Maddie's father? Is there a chance he could have orchestrated this?"

Maddie's father.

My blood runs cold, and the thought of that monster of a man immediately dries my tears. He wouldn't do this, would he? He hasn't seen Maddie since she was born and even back then, all he cared about was making sure he never saw either of us again. Feels easy to rule him out.

"Maddie's father is dead." The rehearsed truth rolls off my tongue. "No one would take her, okay? I feel like you're looking in the wrong direction! Those assholes stole my car—" I'm on my feet the second Moses leans away. "They didn't know there was a kid in there. What if they let her out somewhere and she's wandering the streets? What if they got scared when they saw her and crashed? Why are you still here asking me all these stupid fucking questions when you should be out there looking for her!"

"Ms. Cross, rest assured we're doing everything we can to find your daughter."

"Well it doesn't fucking feel like it!" A sob catches in my throat and I wind my arms around myself. "I never should have left her alone. I should have woken her up and taken her with me back into the diner. Oh my God…" Grief cracks open my chest and I sink back into my seat, weeping.

Moses remains quiet as he moves around and cleans up the medical kit. Within a few minutes, my table is back to normal, and the only proof that I even needed care is the throb across my forehead from the punch. Time slows to a crawl. I check my phone a hundred times after Moses worked some magic and breathed life back into it, but there's nothing. I've texted everyone I could think of, Amy included, but no one has seen or heard anything.

Every time I ask Moses if he knows anything, he silently shakes his head and remains an unmoving statue in my kitchen. Watching. Waiting. I try to sit but not moving ends up suffocating me, so I pace around my apartment, not that it makes me feel any better. The officer won't let me leave, constantly claiming that I'm more useful at home, which only serves to stoke my frustration until I'm ready to tear my bones out of my skin.