What did he just say?
He isn't laughing now. There's murder in his stare, and he's pointing it directly at me.
"Did you really think I didn't know?"
58
NO MERCY
ATTICUS
The cursor blinks incessantly in the messaging box on the screen.
Above it are two messages sent by 'Céce' to Aurora in the last hour, both of which have gone unanswered.
"Could she have forgotten?" The hope in Eli's voice is painful to hear.
"She wouldn't forget," Sev answers before I can, peering out the window down the beach as he lights a cigarette.
When he sees me watching him, he shakes his head and tosses me the pack and lighter. "I still can't believe you fucking smoke. After all the shit you've given me over the years."
I take one out and put it between my lips to light it, inhaling deeply to try to settle the foreign sensation growing in my chest.
I don't want to jump to any conclusions, but Aurora was meant to text Céline when she got to the airstrip to let her know she was on her way, but she hasn't.
From what she told us earlier in the week, the confirmed flight was scheduled to take off just after ten in the morning. It's now twenty past, and she hasn't even messaged to say she arrived at the airport.
Almost everything is packed up on our end. I only have this last laptop out to confirm she's in the air, and then we have our own flight to catch. A flight we're going to fucking miss if we don't leave in the next hour.
I toss the cigarettes and lighter onto the table and stuff my hand in my pocket to rub the tiny metallic dick I keep there. Trying to think.
"Let me try to access the private flight schedule at Girona again."
"You already tried that," Sev argues.
"Twice," Eli piles on.
"Yeah, well, maybe the third time's the fucking charm," I snap, ignoring them as I toss the cigarette in the sink and work to decrypt the tight cybersecurity at the airport. If I had better equipment and processing power, I could do it, but I have very fucking limited resources here.
Come on, Trouble. Text us back.
The tension in the villa escalates almost as much as the heat outside, forcing the tiny, cheap-ass AC unit to work overtime to keep up. Sweat keeps dripping into my eyes, stinging, and making everything that much harder until I am five seconds from losing my shit.
"Come on," I growl through my teeth, tasting salt as the minutes continue to click away without any response from Aurora, and I can't seem to crack this. "Come on."
She's okay.
We've spoken to her every day since she arrived.
She's okay.
We saw her on video less than forty-eight hours ago. She was fine. Unharmed. She looked healthy, even.
She's. Okay.
Elijah blows first, getting up with sudden urgency that almost ruins my focus at the most critical moment of my cyberattack.
"That's it. We're going," he says, and I ignore him.
