No.
Simone moved through the parking lot like she moved through everything — unhurried, exact, already composed for whatever came next. Dark, long braids, her good coat, warm brown skin that caught the lot’s low light in a way that was frankly unreasonable given the circumstances.
Ramona went very still. The specific stillness of someone hoping not to be seen by a predator, which was an insane way to feel about her ex-wife, but that didn’t stop her from feeling it. She was suddenly aware of the space between them shrinking.
Simone looked up.
Ramona’s stomach dropped. She breathed, “Zara?—”
“I see her.”
Simone stopped a few feet away. Peered through the driver’s side window at Ramona. Frowned.
“Ramona?” Simone’s voice was uncertain. “Is that you?”
Fuck.
Ramona’s hand went to her face. “N—no,” she started. The glamour — it must be fading. But Simone was staring at her with definite recognition. Ramona racked her brain for any good reason for her to be in this parking lot at this hour that Simone would believe.
“I know your shitty car, Ramona,” Simone said.
“I—” Ramona started.
The glamour flickered visibly. Wavered.
Simone’s eyes widened. “Itisyou. What are you doing here? You’re banned from campus.”
“What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night,” Ramona asked.
Simone did not look pleased to be questioned. She crossed her arms. “My department head called. Apparently, there’s been multiple alarms in the library near — Wait, I don’t have to explain this to you. Are you wearing a glamour?”
Ramona considered saying no.
“Are you breaking into Thornwood?” Simone looked at Zara, then back to Ramona. “Ramona, are you following me?”
The glamour failed completely. Ramona’s own face stared back at her in the window reflection. “What? No. This isn’t about you, Simone. Not everything is about you.”
Ramona thought she heard Zara groan in frustration.
Simone’s eyebrows flew up. She stepped back, hand going to her phone. “I have to report this. They made it very clear. If they find out I saw you and didn’t call security?—”
“Please,” Ramona said. “Just — the car won’t start. We’re trying to get someone to pick us up. Give us five minutes?—”
“Did you break in?” Simone asked. Her voice wasn’t angry. More like worried. “Ramona. Why would you do this?”
“It’s not important,” Ramona lied. “Just pretend you didn’t see us. Please.”
Simone’s expression was complicated. Concern mixed with what looked like genuine regret. “I’m sorry. I have to call them. You know I have to.”
She was already dialing.
Ramona looked at Zara. Through the tether: desperation, fierce protectiveness, calculation.
Take the books and go,Ramona thought desperately.Please.
Through the tether: Zara’s refusal.I can’t leave you. I’d rather burn this place to the ground than abandon you.
Security answered. Ramona heard the tinny voice through Simone’s phone.
