“It won’t be too late. We have time.” I wrap my arm around him and smooth his hair out of his face. “We have nothing but time.”
We fall asleep like that, Dante snoozing next to me. It reminds me of the years we spent in our tiny little apartment. There were so many nights when he had nightmares and I would crowd into his toddler bed with him. We’d wake up smashed together, his knees in my spine and his elbows in my ribs.
But when I blink my eyes open, the bed is empty.
I can see the nest of blankets where Dante was curled up, but he isn’t there anymore.
Boom. Boom. Boom. The walls start to shake.
I duck down, my first thought going to gunshots.
When the sound stops, I turn to the door. It’s closed. The frame is still splintered and cracked on the inside from when Mikhail tore through
