Roman shoved the phone back into his pocket and pushed forward, quickening his pace.
The iron gates loomed ahead, and as he stepped through them, the cool air outside hit him, carrying the distant hum of traffic.
A cab was already waiting, its engine running, as if it had been expecting him.
Roman didn't stop to question it. He yanked the door open and slid inside. "14th Street," he said, breath still uneven.
The driver nodded once and pulled off immediately, the car lurching forward before settling into speed. The city blurred past the windows, buildings, lights, passing figures, all smeared into motion.
Roman leaned back slightly, his fingers drumming once against his thigh, his thoughts racing ahead of the car.
Within minutes, they slowed as the Saunders' house came into view.
Roman glanced at the driver as the car eased to a stop a few blocks away. Questions pressed at the back of his throat, but there was no time.
