“Then tomorrow, you follow the plan.
I watch her.
“You have my word that you will get to face Leon,” I say.
“That was not what I asked.”
No.
It was not.
Maya picks up her phone again and walks past me toward the bathroom. At the doorway, she stops without looking back.
“If you make me regret trusting you,” she says, “I will make sure you regret it more.”
Then she closes the door.
I stand alone in her room, listening to the lock turn softly into place.
Chapter Fifteen
Maya
Ifind Heath sitting on the third stair from the top, a blanket around his shoulders, his knees pulled to his chest.
The hallway lights are dimmed for the night, leaving the house softened at the edges. Somewhere downstairs, a clock marks the hour with one slow chime. I do not know what time it is until I glance at the dark window beside him and realize dawn is closer than sleep.
He looks up when I step out of my room.
“You’re leaving tomorrow,” he says.
There is no accusation in it. That would be easier. He says it the way he says most frightening things: quietly, as if naming them too loudly might make them true faster.
“I’m going to Boston,” I tell him. “I’m coming back.”
I sit on the stair below his, close enough that he can see me but not close enough to make him feel cornered. “I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
He picks at the edge of the blanket. “What if Dad finds you there?”
“I won’t let him near you,” I say.
“You won’t be here.”
Before I can answer, a shadow moves at the end of the hall.
Stefano steps out of the dark in loose black pants and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms. He must have been awake. He must have heard enough to know what this is. His hair is still damp, and there is no gun visible at his waist, though I know better than to assume that means he is unarmed.
Heath looks at him cautiously.
Stefano stops a few feet away. “Why are you not in bed?”
Heath’s fingers tighten in the blanket. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“That is not an answer.”
