The plan was for her to be with Ambrose in Spain for a week while the media circus dies down.
It'll be easier once she has confirmed return flight details, but if Ambrose is flying back with her on his jet, she may not have those until the night before.
Patience,I think as I start to run, loving how the resistance of the sand makes me have to work harder.
This was her choice.
But was it the right one? In the thirty hours since we arrived, I've thought it might have been better to have voted with Eli. Ambrose could be dead by now if I had.
We wouldn't have the art or true vengeance, but we'd haveher.
I just got her back.
I can't lose her now.
I won't.
When my body is past its breaking point, I stop, hunching over my knees, panting as sweat drips from my chin.
My phone chimes with a message from Céline checking in, and my fingers slip on the screen as I bring up the image she's sent of Ellie.
Despite the screaming in my head, I manage a smirk at the way her tongue is hanging out to one side. But then it's gone, because I remember that it's my fucking job to make sure Aurora gets back to her.
What am I doing out here?
I push back to standing.
There's no time for this. I have to get back.
We need to do our part.
If Aurora finds what we need, we need to be ready to move on it. And if she doesn't, we pull her out. But after this week, one way or another, it's all over.
What will that even look like?
We've been fighting for so long to get revenge that I don't even know who I'll become once we finally have it. Or once we all decide to put an end to Ambrose and let it go for good.
For the first time, I'm excited to find out.
But right now, I have a woman to find and a man to destroy.
I won't let myself be distracted again.
55
LET’S PLAY SPY
AURORA
Itry the power button on my laptop for the fourth time since this morning, but it doesn't even have enough juice to flicker. Santiago went to town to get me a new adaptor because apparently they didn't have any around the house. But I've had it plugged in for over an hour, and if the fucking thing was going to charge, it would've by now.
"Ugh," I groan, slamming it shut.
They've offered to buy me a new laptop, one that works with this country's weird-ass power outlets, so it's not even all that reasonable for me to keep asking for new adaptors to try.
And as if dealing with Ambrose's increasingly pushy attempts to get me to agree to completely abandon my life in Boone wasn't bad enough, I haven't even gottencloseto getting into his office.
Not because it's locked or under any sort of surveillance—it doesn't seem to be—but because his staff won't fucking leave me alone. In the three days since I arrived here, I haven't been able to leave my room for more than fifteen minutes before running into Santiago or one of the cleaning ladies.
