But he’s still my father.
And he’s begging for help.
I push away the shame and kneel in front of him.
“Please … help me stand,” he murmurs.
I sigh and nod. Then I place my arm underneath his shoulder and help him get up from the ground.
“Can you walk?” I ask.
He nods. “Barely.”
“We need to get out of here. Fast,” I reply.
He groans in pain but allows me to move him. Every step he takes weighs down on me, but I do my best to carry him as we walk away from the alley. It doesn’t take him long to get the hang of walking in pain. Every once in a while, he hisses and clamps his teeth, his face contorting from the agony, but it does little to my frozen heart.
Still, I couldn’t leave him there to die.
“Check every fucking warehouse!”
My pupils dilate, and I glare up beyond the road we’re on.
Lex’s guards.
“Duck,” I bark at my father, who immediately hides behind a big machine standing outside a warehouse. I help him stay put without falling over, but his sheer weight strains my muscles.
Sweat drops roll all over my face and back. There’s no time to process what happened or think about any of the wounds on my body or my father’s. And no time to think about Beast being left alone to die.
I gulp down my nerves as several guards run past us, oblivious to our location.
I can’t let all the effort Beast did to save me go in vain.
“When they’re gone, run toward the streets as fast as you can,” I hiss at my father.
“Fine,” he growls. “But I won’t be able to walk for a long time after. Everything hurts.”
“Ignore the pain until we get to safety,” I say, and I peer beyond the contraption.
They seem to have rushed off in the opposite direction. I don’t see them anymore, and I don’t hear their voices either.
“C’mon.” I push my arm underneath his shoulder again and help him up.
Helping someone this heavy walk when you’re small yourself is hard, but I pull through without complaining. Though this dress isn’t helping me get far quickly enough.
I drag my father across the pier and into a busy street. We cross and head right into the main part of the city where it’s bustling, even at night time. The more people around us, the safer we are. No one will try to take us out among a crowd.
“Everyone’s looking at me,” my father mutters, eyeing the people who glare at his wounds.
“Of course,” I say. “You’re bleeding.”
My father glances over his shoulder. “I’m leaving a trail.”
I gaze at the tiny spots of blood all over the pavement. “We just have to keep going. Somewhere.”
“Where?” he asks.
I sigh. “I don’t know.”