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I’d thought I was safely away from any cameras.

Apparently, I’d been wrong.

My phone chimed a third time: See? It’s time to go. Get out. Do it now. Don’t pack anything, just go. They’re on a plane and they know where you live. You have two hours. Text me when you’re safe.

“Derek?” Esmeralda, our account manager who worked with the major health insurance client we were meeting with, was peering at me through the screen. “Is everything okay?”

I realized, with a start, that I was still in a meeting and had been for however long I’d been staring at my phone, realizing that my tiny world—the one I’d stupidly convinced myself was safe—was about to implode.

“Uh. Um.” I sat back, blinking, sucking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly. My heart was racing. It probably had been for a long time. There was a sheen of sweat on my brow, too. How long had that been there? “I—uh—I need to go.”

Esmeralda’s eyes widened. “We just asked if you can explain the—”

“No. Sorry. It’s a family emergency,” I lied, barely even aware of what I was saying. “It’s bad. I’m sorry. I have to leave now.”

Then, without waiting for their reply, I left the meeting and changed my settings to unavailable on all of my work-related messenger services. I left my computer running, as if I’d just stepped away for a break.

I looked around my tiny apartment—at the queen bed, still unmade, the TV mounted to the wall, over to my standing desk, which had been my makeshift office for years. I couldn’t return to work. Nor could I offer them an explanation. It was way too dangerous.

My gaze slid to my cramped kitchen. I’d fastened a couple of menus for takeout places to the fridge with Space Needle magnets I’d purchased at the gift shop shortly after moving to Seattle.

There were a few glasses and dirty dishes next to the sink. I’d meant to wash them last night and now I never would.

My gaze finally slid to my personal laptop, resting on the tiny square dining table I’d put next to my window, with two mismatched dining chairs I’d thrifted from the shop off Broadway pushed into it. It would be awful to leave my laptop behind, but I didn’t have much choice. If I took it with me, they’d know there was a good chance I’d actually left. Plus there were any number of ways they could track me if I took it.

I didn’t have any artwork up. No photographs. I only owned a handful of books, even though I’d been an avid reader in my old life. All of it was digital now, because it had been so heart-wrenching to leave my collection behind once before. Now I was going to have to abandon any digital account connected to my current name.

Derek Evans was no more. I was a ghost with no name. At least until I could find a new one.

How much time had passed since getting the initial text message? Ten minutes? Fifteen?

How much time did I have left?

With shaking hands, I copied out several numbers from my phone’s contact list onto a Post-it note—Sadie, Nathaniel, Thierry—and stuck those in my wallet. I didn’t need to copy Quinn’s number, because I already had it memorized.

My phone rang twice in the process. Esmeralda both times. Probably wondering what the hell was going on with me.

I sent the calls directly to voicemail.

After hesitating for longer than I should have, I copied out the unknown number Brent had texted me from. I had no idea if I’d ever use it or not, but I wanted to have it, just in case.

Because I was going to need to ditch my phone, too. Carefully—I needed to be intentional about it, otherwise I’d get myself killed.

My phone chimed again, another text message, and I flinched.

Sucking in another deep breath, I opened it.

It was Quinn: Hey, woke up late. What are you doing right now? Want to come over? Miss you too.

I stared down at my phone, feeling my heart break into tiny pieces.

Would he understand? Was it possible I could explain any of this? Would he trust me, even after he’d discovered that everything about me was a lie?

Could he come with me?

But I already knew the answer to that, didn’t I?

The smart, logical one, at least. The part of my brain that kept me alive for the past five years knew exactly how foolish that was.