“That’s good.’’ I sigh, turning my head to look at him. His hands continue the soft movements, and my body’s at ease. “Nelson is hidden well. Only Aria knows where he is; she won’t risk the mole getting to him. Alexander is dead, Paul is in prison. What do we do about Woods and Flint?”
“Flint is a small fish to fry. From what I know, he’s always just going along with what the rest wanted. We’ll get to him in no time. Woods, though, is very paranoid. He has a lot of guards on him at the moment, so an immediate attack could backfire.”
“Alright, then we put Woods aside for now. Our goal should be finding out who the mole is.”
“We’re working on it,” Arlo assures. “And, of course, we have feds to take care of.”
“They’re relentless.”
Aria’s been messaging both Arlo and me since late last night. They raided what was left of the base, despite the fact that Niko and Lucas set it on fire to get rid of any evidence. Agent Arnault has been looking for me specifically, and it’s making me uneasy.
Sure, on paper, I’m still Amy Marshall, but I doubt that’s why he’s looking for me. In fact, I can bet that he wants Blair Hawke, and if he finds me, it’ll cause too many issues.
“I have an idea.’’ I sit up. “Amy’s fingerprints are in all legalsystems, right?”
Arlo nods. “Yes.”
“So are mine.”
His brows crease. “Okay?”
“Lucas and Kaya are very good at hacking. Why not hack the CIA, FBI, and whoever else is needed and just switch information.”
Arlo frowns. “Then you’d be Amy Marshall on paper.”
“Yes. And Amy doesn’t have any criminal records. Blair does. So, if Arnault wants Blair, let’s give him Blair. Just not the real one.”
“Your brilliance never ceases to amaze me, you know that, right?”
I grin. “You like the idea?”
“It’s good. All eyes would be on her, not you.”
“Good. I’ll call Kaya after the funeral. Now, go and wash off that toner. I’m scared your hair will turn purple.”
THIRTY-ONE
The snow stopped falling a couple of hours ago. Now, the harsh wind makes it almost impossible to stay outside. Yet, the coldness doesn’t seep through the thick clothes. I’ve been numb for a while, both in body and spirit. It’s been difficult to handle any of this, and I’ll forever be grateful Aria had my back and took care of everything.
“Arlo,” my little sister steps beside me, hands clasped behind her back. Both of us are staring at the grave in front of us, my chest tightening with each passing moment.
“Squirt.”
The joke doesn’t land as well as it usually does, but Aria doesn’t comment on it. She’s too focused on everythingelse to humor me. Slowly, she turns to look at me, something akin to sympathy on her features before it vanishes.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was.”
“It wasn’t,” she grits out, hands clenching by her body.
“It quite literally was, no? I was the one to kill her.”
The memories flash before my eyes. Just like it happens every single night. The moment I decided to fire the bullet, even though Blair told me not to. Singlehandedly, I ruined my family, and the consequences haven’t caught up with me just yet.
“You didn’t know.”
A bitter chuckle leaves my lips, and Aria sucks in a deep breath. She knows better than to argue with me, and she knows that at the moment, it would be futile to try and convince me otherwise.
