It’s like my body is rebelling against my mind.
Go. Just go. You’ve made your choice, and now you have to live with it.
“Blake!”
The sound of my name jolts me from my thoughts.
“Blake, wait!”
It’s Cleo. She’s running toward me, her red hair whipping around her face. My eyes widen. Why is she here? Did Nero send her? If he's decided he won’t let me leave after all, why didn’t he come himself?
And why does the thought of him forcing me to stay fill me with so much damn relief?
Cleo comes to a stop before me and bends over, pressing her palms against her knees. “Fuck, Gem’s right. I’m out of shape,” she pants. “Give me a second.”
“What are you doing here?” My voice trembles, caught somewhere between relief and confusion.
She tilts her head up, looking at me from under her thick lashes. “Rafe told me you’re leaving on his plane. And I just…” She takes a few short breaths. “I kept thinking about our conversation at the hospital, about how I told you I still felt guilty about all the crap that went down when I got taken by my dad, and I just got this idea in my head that maybe I scared you. You had this freaked-out look on your face. I didn’t mean that I think you’ll never feel better about what happened, or something crazy like that. I mean, I am totally fine! I say stupid, thoughtless thingsallthe time. I didn’t mean to make you want to run away.”
A nearly hysterical laugh bubbles out of me. “Cleo, the problem isn’t what I’m feeling. It’s what I’mnotfeeling. Idon’tfeel guiltyfor shooting Ekaterina. Not even a little bit.” My voice chokes. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know who I’ve become.”
Cleo’s gaze softens. She takes a step closer, her eyes searching mine. “That’s what’s bugging you?”
“I’m all twisted up,” I whimper. “My dad was a criminal too. He was a terrible person. I spent all my life trying to prove to everyone in my town that I wasn’t anything like him. That I was good. That I had integrity. And within weeks of being here, I've become a killer. I'm not even sorry that I killed Ekaterina.”
Cleo reaches out and gently cups my face with both hands, her thumbs brushing away my tears. “I get it. You’re scared, and that’s okay. But don’t think for a second that what you did means you’re some kind of monster. You did what you had to do to survive.”
“I’m scared of who I’m becoming.” The words barely make it past the lump in my throat. “I want to be with Nero, but I’m terrified of what being with him is turning me into.”
She sighs. “Come with me. Let’s sit down and talk this through. No pressure, no expectations. Just two girls having a conversation.”
I hesitate, my gaze shifting back to the stairs of the plane.
“It’ll still be here after we talk if you decide you still want to go,” Cleo says. “I promise. He’s our guy, so he’s on our clock.”
Talking to someone sounds…nice. But I don’t know Cleo all that well. Can I trust her?
Screw it. I’ve got nothing to lose.
So I nod. “Okay.”
We walk back to the terminal in silence, the wind tugging at our hair and clothes. Inside, Cleo leads me to a small café I hadn’t noticed before and finds us a table close to the window.
“Let’s get some food,” Cleo suggests. Her voice is light, but there’s an undertone of concern. “I always think better on a full stomach.”
I manage a small smile. “That sounds nice.”
She orders for both of us—club sandwiches, chips, and two glasses of Coke. When the food arrives, she nudges one of the plates toward me, her emerald eyes urging me to take a bite.
I pick up the sandwich and nibble at the corner. It's bland and unappealing, but it’s something to focus on other than the storm of emotions inside me.
“So,” Cleo begins, her tone gentle, “why don’t you tell me exactly what’s on your mind?”
I put the sandwich down. “I feel like I’ve lost myself in this dark, ruthless world.”
Cleo nods, her expression thoughtful. “I get that. Believe me, I do.”
“Do you? Doesn’t it just feel normal to you? You grew up in it.”
