Lane couldn't think by the time she reached the lodge house. She ran all the way back to Manhattan, not caring if anyone saw her because she had just come face to face with her nightmare. And he had walked away. Left her lying there as if he didn't remember her crying pale face, framed by a mess of black hair all those years ago. That was the man who killed her father, that was the man who let her live. She didn't know his name, but she knew who he worked for, and now it was him who was after Spot. They could have sent anyone to kill Spot Conlon, but they sent him, almost like they knew that Lane would be there.
She shook her head and slowed her pace as she entered the lodge house, leaning on the worn wood outside the little meeting room to catch her breath before going to talk to Spot. But as she leaned against the wall it wasn't Spot she heard on the inside.
"What are you thinkin' Spot?! You hardly know her, she could disappear again." Racetrack shouted as Lane knit her brows. She couldn't hear Spot's quieter response, which she feared meant Spot agreed with him.
"You keep falling for her nonsense every time she comes to town. You can't keep such a soft spot for her!" He yelled and she heard what she presumed was Spot's fist hitting the wall.
"Just stop, Race, you don't know what you're talking about." Spot interjected, but Race carried on anyway.
"In fact she's probably half way to Boston by now." He warned as Lane threw the door open. Spot was leaned against the back wall, his jaw working and his arms crossed angrily as Race paced across the room.
"Boston's nice but I think I'll stay thanks." She snapped, crossing her arms as she glared at a dumbfounded Race. Spot scoffed and smirked at Race's surprised face as he moved to clap him on the back.
"Told you she'd be back." He muttered, moving to the window. Race shook his head.
"It doesn't matter. You're never going to get by Il Sole Nero." He said, his accent coming out stronger with the Italian phrase. Lane paled.
"How do you know of Il Sole Nero?" She whispered, squinting at him, her distrust growing. Race rolled his eyes.
"I'm Italian, everyone knows who they are!" He shouted throwing his hands up. She shifted uncomfortably as Spot watched her stare Race down.
"So you saw the mark." She said, trying to gauge whether or not he had a hand in putting it there. He nodded, suddenly serious again.
"Tu non posso vittoria" He muttered angrily. Spot raised an eyebrow at this sudden change of language. Lane scoffed. It was obvious Racetrack didn't think she kept her native Italian. As mad as she was deep down she wasn't sure if they could win either but she wasn't about to let Racetrack know that.
"Ho sopravvissuto prima di, Io farò di nuovo." She spat back at him. Spot pushed off the wall, looking at them quizzically. Race stared at her hard and moved closer.
"E Spot? Faranno lasciarlo vivere?" He shouted right in her face, gesturing at Spot, who was growing increasingly angrier.
"Io volontà non di lasciarlo morire!" She yelled, instinctively pushing Race from her. He stumbled and cursed her in Italian. Spot threw his arms between them.
"Guys! Would you at least fight in English? We don't have time for this shit, we've got to go." He hissed, his voice like daggers breaking up their argument. Race looked down; obviously upset he couldn't get through to them. He took one last long look at Spot then moved towards the door, shaking his head.
"You don't understand what you're up against." He muttered, pulling the door open and slamming it behind him. Lane looked at the closed door for a moment, trying to figure out what Race meant. The suspicion that he knew something they didn't kept growing stronger. They stood for a moment in silence before Spot kicked the wall in anger, as Lane turned back to face him. He shook his head stiffly then looked at her.
"Did you get the money?" He asked, watching as the sun came into view of the window. It was already the afternoon. She nodded pulling it out of the pocket of her skirt.
"Luck gave me some trouble. But he's probably not smart enough to figure out what's going on." She muttered, handing it over to him. He nodded, obviously torn.
"So excited to leave Brooklyn in his capable hands." He muttered sarcastically as he pocketed the money. Lane nodded stiffly and moved over to the door. She glanced back as Spot followed her and paused.
"I've got to talk to Kloppman really quick." She murmured, not sure she wanted Spot to see what was probably going to be an emotional goodbye. He started to shake his head.
"We don't have the time we should just leave-"He started before Lane fixed him with an expectant look. He nodded, suddenly solemn.
"I get it. I'll be around here." He said as he watched Lane walk into the other room. She found Kloppman in the front lobby, ringing his aged hands. He looked up when he saw her and his sad eyes were enough to know he saw the mark too. She nodded as she leaned against the front desk.
"They're coming for Spot?" It wasn't as much of a question as a conformation. She sighed and nodded.
"We're leaving in a few minutes." She explained shrugging her shoulders as if this was commonplace. He let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand over his balding head. Lane shuddered at the thought of seeing that man on the street earlier.
"It's the same man." She started looking up at Kloppman. "It's the same man that killed Father. I saw him on the street today. I don't think he remembered me." She explained watching a shot of fear cross his face. He shook his head.
"He remembers you. People don't forget who they hurt. They sent him for a reason Lane, this isn't just about Spot." He said looking towards the room where they both knew Spot was listening. Lane looked to the floor and balanced on her bare toes.
"They're coming to finish what they started." She muttered, knowing it was true. They knew her connection to Spot so to them this was like killing two birds with one stone. Almost literally.
"I'm not full blood Italian." She cursed almost regretfully, knowing things would be so much easier if she was. She'd spent almost her entire life trying to stay in the shadows, never staying anywhere long but they were catching up. Kloppman nodded and put a soft hand on her shoulder. She met his eyes warily.
"You still have your father's side. The Irish are a proud, strong people as well, and you shouldn't count out that side of you. As much as you are your mother, you have the support of two worlds, and that's more than most people can ask for." He told her quietly, his eyebrows knitted.
Lane was about to reply when the door to the meeting room burst open and Spot came storming out, his eyes wide. Lane jumped back as Kloppman tightened his grip on her shoulder instinctively.
"I was watching out the window. Someone's coming this way. Not someone we want to see." He warned loudly, grabbing Lane's wrist and dragging her towards the back exit. She planted her feet and spun to face him as Kloppman hurried towards the window.
"Wait how do you know?" She asked, trying to pry his fingers from around her wrist with no avail. Spot shook his head and rolled his eyes.
"Let's just say I've been in enough tough places that I can see trouble walking from a mile away." His voice lowered and he stopped struggling with her for a second.
"Lane, we have to go. Now. Otherwise I doubt anyone's making it out of this lodge house." He said quietly. Spot respected her and her place in all of this but his voice was still only slightly softer than the commanding tone he normally employed. Kloppman hurried back over then, ushering them towards the door as well.
"He's right, and so were you. He's coming." He pushed them to the door in a speed an elderly man shouldn't possess. But suddenly he stopped and put his hands on Lane's shoulders then pulled her into a tight hug.
"Be careful my Gattina." He rumbled in his low voice for only her to here. She hugged him tightly as well. She tried to tell him something- good bye, good luck, be safe, anything, but her throat stuck and before she realized what was happening, Spot pulled her out of the back door and they were running, leaving the lodge house behind them, and Kloppman to his fate. Whatever fate that was. She held back a sob as she kept pace with Spot, her cold feet slapping the bricks, the wind stinging her eyes and drying whatever tears she had to give. It was just her and Spot now.
Four alley ways, three sharp turns, and one brush with heavy foot traffic later, Spot and Lane collapsed in a forgotten alley way on the edge of News Paper Row. It wasn't surprising they ended up here; it was such a familiar place to both of them. Most of the newsies were selling right now; you could hear their loud voices over the din of the street crowd.
Lane breathed hard as she sat on the ground, brushing gravel and dirt off the bottoms of her feet. Spot sat across from her, his eyes scanning the mouth of the alley way and every person who walked by it. They sat for a few minutes in silence, Lane's mind spun from the events of the day and she tried to avoid thinking of Kloppman. Spot cleared his throat and Lane looked up at him questioningly.
"Listen." He looked at her sternly but his expression softened quickly. "I just want to say I'm sorry about Klop-" Lane cut him off with a shake of her head.
"I don't want to talk about it. We've got more important things we need to figure out." She said sharply. Spot worked his jaw but backed off the topic. The silence hung between them until Spot turned his blue eyes to her.
"What's next? Where do we go from here?" He asked quietly, his voice breaking uncharacteristically. She broke their gaze and looked at the folds of her torn skirt.
"Away. Anywhere. Out of the city would be best. We just keep running now." She muttered as the wind whistled down the alley, pulling pieces of paper with it and around the corner.
A/N: Thanks guys for reading! I'm really going to try and put more chapters up quickly. When I use Italian I'll put a translation in the author's note so you guys aren't completely lost. It's basic stuff though and I won't use it often so you should be fine! Thanks again for reading, and don't be afraid to drop me a line!
-Scratch
Tu non posso vittoria – You cannot win.
Ho sopravvissuto prima di, Io farò di nuovo – I survived before I can do it again
E Spot? Faranno lasciarlo vivere – You believe they'll let him live?
Io volontà non di lasciarlo morire – I will not let him die
Gattina- term of endearment meaning 'little cat'