A Taste of Freedom

I started the engine and glanced to my side—Angelo was climbing into his truck, calm as ever, like this was all part of a plan.

Where am I even going?

I didn't know. And maybe I didn't want to know. I just let my hands steer, let the car roll forward into whatever direction felt right. The roads opened up like veins leading deeper into the city, each block flashing with signs, headlights, motion.

I checked my phone lying quietly on the passenger seat—no messages. No missed calls. No Marco, no Mom, no Dad. Just silence. Maybe they hadn't noticed yet. Or maybe they were waiting, watching.

I passed by restaurants, diners, cafés… so many choices. The city felt alive. Loud. Tempting. Like a living creature that was inviting me to get lost inside it.

I peeked at the rearview mirror.

Yup. Still there. Angelo's truck tailed me from a distance, steady and smooth.

He really meant it. I smiled to myself. Who was this guy? He didn't act like a stranger. He acted like… someone who already knew me.

Then I saw it.

A towering black-and-gold building—Velvet Arcadia—the name practically glowing above the entrance in sleek, silver cursive. Glass, black marble, brushed gold edges. It shimmered like it belonged in a dream. Waterfalls spilled down on either side of the arched entrance.

I didn't hesitate. I turned into the parking lot, heart pounding with excitement. I watched in the mirror again—Angelo parked right beside me.

Of course he did.

As I stepped out, I caught a glimpse of him leaning against his truck, hands tucked in his pockets, watching me. Not just watching—beaming. Like I'd made him proud.

Proud? Why did it feel like that?

The glass doors parted and the inside hit me like sunlight through a kaleidoscope. The atrium was massive. The domed ceiling—all tinted glass—let in a golden haze that painted the polished white floors in amber light. Crystal chandeliers floated above like constellations. I could barely breathe.

This… was it. The kind of world Max used to tell me about when we snuck books under the covers.

I turned. He was still there.

I walked back, grabbed his hand without asking, and tugged. "Come on!"

He laughed, caught off guard. "W-wait. You're really excited, huh?"

I grinned up at him. "Of course."

His arm was solid, like stone wrapped in warmth. Being beside him felt… safe. But also dangerous in a way I couldn't explain.

Then I saw it.

An ice cream shop, pastel-colored like a fairytale. I stopped dead in my tracks, eyes lighting up. But just as quickly, the moment dulled.

Crap. I didn't bring money.

"You want ice cream?" he asked, already sensing the answer in my expression.

I shook my head fast, trying to play it cool. "No, let's keep walking—"

But he was already inside.

"No—wait, it's okay—" I rushed after him, but he was talking to the cashier already, cool as ever, handing over a black card. A black card?

He turned to me, ice cream in hand. Strawberry. My favorite. How did he know?

I hesitated, then took it with a small smile. "You didn't have to…"

"It's nothing," he said simply, walking out without waiting for more thanks.

I followed, licking the smooth, cold scoop. It was perfect. A buttery, creamy kind of sweet that made me want to cry from happiness.

But then, his phone rang again.

I pretended not to notice. He stepped away, but I still heard.

"Yeah. Alright. Thanks. I got it."

His voice dropped an octave—serious. Alert. He shoved the phone back in his pocket, scanning the crowd. His entire demeanor shifted. From relaxed to… guarded.

Then he turned to me.

"We need to leave. Now."

My stomach twisted.

"What? Why? We just got here—" My voice cracked.

He stepped closer, eyes burning into mine. "We're not safe. Not here."

I didn't move.

He reached for my hand—my left one, the one not holding the cone—and gripped it tightly. Not rough. Not aggressive. But with purpose. He didn't let go as we walked toward the exit.

"I don't understand—what's going on?"

He didn't answer.

At the car, he pulled open the door and nodded toward the seat. "Go. Drive home."

I stood there, frozen. "Angelo, you're scaring me."

He didn't blink. "That's because you should be scared."

Something about the way he said it made my skin prickle.

"Get in. Now."