"Then you figure out another way to get what you need." I opened the door. "But we both know you won't find one in time."
I left her standing there in the pantry, wrapped in shadows and desperate choices.
I went back to my study to wait.
Because I already knew what her answer would be.
She'd say yes, and I couldn’t fucking wait for her to.
Katrina
Ilasted two hours before I started pacing.
Two hours of sitting on the edge of my bed in the staff quarters, staring at my phone. Running the numbers in my head over and over until they blurred together into one massive, impossible problem.
Fifteen thousand dollars. New identities. Ninety days.
Marcus got out in ninety days, and when he did, he'd come looking. He always came looking. Three years, two states, and four different names hadn't been enough to shake him. He'd found me in California. Found me in Tennessee. He'd find me here too, eventually. Unless I disappeared for real this time.
Unless I had the kind of money it took to vanish properly—not the cheap fake IDs I'd been scraping together funds for, but the real deal. The kind that came with credit histories and paper trails and all the legitimacy that kept you hidden in plain sight.
The kind Olek Sidorov could provide with a phone call.
"Fuck," I muttered, dropping my head into my hands.
My phone buzzed. Shanice.
SHANICE
You figure it out yet?
Working on it.
Work faster. Z asked about Christmas again. I don't know what to tell her.
My chest tightened. Zara. My baby sister who wasn't a baby anymore but still believed in Santa Claus and happy endings. Who drew pictures of our family—her, me, and Shanice—living in a house with a yard and a dog.
Who had no idea that my ex–whom she adored–was the reason we were running.
Tell her things will be fine. I promise.
I hit send before I could second-guess it.
Another buzz.
How?
I didn't answer.
Instead, I stood and looked at myself in the mirror above the dresser. Same face I'd had yesterday. Same body. Same brown skin that Marcus had marked with his fists and his rage.
Same woman who'd sworn she'd never let a man control her again.
And here I was, considering letting Olek Sidorov do exactly that.
Except it wasn't the same. Was it?
This was a transaction. A contract. Terms and conditions and an end date. Ninety days and then I walked away with everything I needed to keep Zara safe.
