"We could take care of it," Seven offers. "I could make it look like an accident."
I stifle my annoyance, shaking my head.
"He would only send another one andobviouslythat would breed suspicion. This is good, actually. We know he's taking this—Aurora—seriously. And we know he's there, so we may be able to use that to our advantage."
Eli has been too quiet for too long.
"E, you good?"
His jaw shifts as he grinds his teeth and relaxes his hands from where they're squeezed together between his legs. He nods.
"Okay, so, Trou—Aurora." I clear my throat. "Try to be a little more aware when leaving the apartment for a while. From what I can tell, it doesn't look like this guy is using any form of long-range listening devices, but that could change. For now it looks like a simple protection detail. He could follow you, though, and if he does, you shouldn't be coming here more than once a week."
"Okay, yeah. Got it."
Does she look more pale than she did a minute ago? She catches me staring and I drop my gaze.
"We should go over where it leaves us if it becomes too dangerous to meet here," I continue, checking to see that everyone is still following me. "This is where Céline and the city buses will become useful, so I guess we can thank you for destroying your car and giving us the added opportunity to meet if necessary."
Didn't mean to say it like that.
She purses her lips and I mentally slap myself.
Get back on track, Atticus."So, uh, between campus, the bus, and Céline, we should always be able to remain in some sort of semi-constant contact."
"And if she has to leave the university because of the press?" Eli presses.
"She can't."
This is when I look at her.
"You'll need to be firm in demanding to finish your studies. If you allow him to convince you to quit school and travel backto Europe with him, it'll be near impossible for me to keep consistent tabs on your whereabouts."
"But wouldn't that be good, though?" she argues. "If I go along with him wherever he wants to take me, won't that lead exactly where we want it to?"
When I don't answer right away because she has a point, Eli glowers at me.
"No, Angel," he says firmly. "The plan is for you to integrate into his life, but not like that. Not all at once where we can't reach you."
Sev nods his agreement. "It's better if we do this slowly."
Aurora and I share a look, and I wonder if she's thinking what I'm thinking. That the sooner we get this over with, the better. But it would be risky, and imaging having no means of contacting her—of tracking her—while she's with him? My skin itches thinking about it.
"Right, Atticus?" Seven says with pointed malice in his tone.
I clear my throat. "Right. They're right. Slow and steady. No rush. That way, we can shift and adapt to whatever comes and make sure we're always within reach of you."
"This is precautionary, anyway," Eli adds. "Like Atticus said, he'll probably keep it from leaking and won't want to push you too hard in the beginning. We'll have a lot more meetings like this, and then there's your break coming up next week. Atty already said he'd work on a cover so you can be with us that weekend. Make it look like you went to visit your adoptive parents or something."
I note how she flinches at the suggestion and wonder when the last time she spoke to them was. I haven't been checking her phone since I found that text message from Chris—trying to give her the privacy she wanted. I hope she was able to smooth things over.
"That would be good." She manages a weak grin for Eli, and I can see how much she needs it—to be at home with them. Even if it's only for a couple of days. If she's anything like me, those dark circles under her eyes will only grow the more nights she's forced to spend alone with her thoughts.
She smiles sadly when Sev wraps an arm around her. "I know Ellie is really missing you guys, too."
"I'll make it happen," I decide. Even knowing the logistics might change in the next couple of weeks, if there's one thing Julian taught me in all his lessons, it was if you want to do something bad enough, there isalwaysa way. And this? I can do this for her. "You have my word."
Aurora looks at me then—really looks—and for the first time in weeks, there’s no ice in her stare. Just exhaustion. And maybe I’m hallucinating, but underneath it I think I see the smallest flicker of trust.
