“Arsen wants to talk to you,” Wolff says, standing in the doorway with that same expressionless stare he always wears.
“About?” I pull on a pair of Arsen’s sweatpants I stole from the laundry. They’re too big, cinched and rolled three times just to stay up.
He doesn’t answer. Just jerks his head.
The hallway reeks of gun oil, stale coffee, and testosterone. Voices echo from deeper in the compound. Arsen stands at a table littered with maps, blueprints, and scattered weapon parts. Axe stands beside him, arms crossed.
“Arlo.” Arsen barely looks up at me when he tosses something I’d never expect on the table. “Your flight leaves tonight.”
On the table lies a fake passport and a thick manila envelope.
“What is this?”
“A plane ticket. A new identity. The envelope has enough cash to get you started, anywhere you want. You’re done.”
This is everything I wanted…but it feels too easy.
“You’re…just letting me go?”
“It’s what your father would have wanted.” A muscle tenses in his jaw. “I can’t protect you anymore—not from the Sovereign. Your best chance is vanishing.”
I stare at the passport. A new name. A chance to be no one. But my father’s face flashes in my mind, broken and bleeding. Priest’s hands on me, his voice in my ear.
“Is that what he wanted?”
Arsen finally looks up. “What?”
“Did he even say anything about me before he died?” My throat tightens. “Before he waskilled?”
Raze strolls in, drops into a chair with a groan. “Only one who knows what he said is Priest. And he’s out of his goddamn mind.” His gaze cuts toward Arsen. “I’m going to shove antipsychotics down his throat if he doesn’t stabilize soon.”
“He’ll be fine,” Arsen snaps. He turns away, but not before he sees my face. “I’ll have someone drive you to the airport.”
Raze snorts. “Does Priest know you’re shipping off hisproperty? Because the second he finds out, this whole bunker is going up in smoke.”
Arsen doesn’t respond.
“I’m just saying.” Raze shrugs, eyes flicking to me. “Nothing else calms him down, except her.”
My skin crawls at the wordproperty. I grab the passport, the cash, the escape ticket I’ve been dreaming of.
“Shut the hell up,” Arsen mutters, snatching a tablet off the table. “Arlo, grab what you need. You’re leaving.” He disappears down the hallway with Axe before I can stop him.
This is it. This is freedom. So why do my hands feel numb?
I turn to Raze, the question bursting out before I can stop it. “What did you mean?”
He lifts a brow. “What?”
“You said I’m the only thing that calms him. What the hell does that mean?”
A slow grin creeps across his face. “Oh, stray. You really don’t know?” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Priest is broken. Always has been. Since Valcross. There’s something fucked in his head. The only time it stops is when he’s got his hands on you. Or his dick in you.”
His smile turns mean. “Mint used to work, but now? You’re the new drug. And nothing else quiets his fucked-up head.”
A sick weight sinks in my stomach. He doesn’t just want to break me. He needs me to function.
“Fuck you.”
