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“Shit,” I say. “Are you for real?” I run a hand through my hair.
She nods.
“Where are your parents?”
“They’re at their other place.”
“Okay,” I say. “That’s good. Who told you?”
She looks away. “Sean.”
Goddamn that piece of shit. I’m going to smash his fucking head in.
“He’s trying to scare you,” I tell her.
“He wouldn’t do that. Sean cares about me.”
“If he cares about you, why didn’t he cover for you?”
She pauses, her fingers caressing a photo frame. “He would have,” she says. “But I wouldn’t agree to his terms.” She shoves the frame into the bag and moves to a drawer, yanking it open.
“And what exactly were his terms?” I ask.
“Just forget about it, Jackal.”
I grab her by the shoulders and spin her around to see tears streaming down her face.
“Tell me,” I say firmly. “Phoenix Moyo, tell me, goddamnit.”
“He wants me to be with him,” she says, not meeting my eyes. “He’d offer me protection if we could be together.”
I grind my teeth, the urge to punch something so strong I squeeze her too hard and she yelps.
“That self-serving son of a bitch.”
Phoenix shrugs. “It is what it is. The SI will be here soon,” she says softly. “I need to get the rest of my things.”
I step aside to allow her access, watching helplessly as she packs up the home she loves.
“If you leave now, while they’re wanting to question you, they’re going to put a bounty on your head.”
“I know,” she says. “Gwen is headed west. To the Green. I’m going after her.”
“You’re going to give up everything? Everything you’ve worked for, to follow a band of outlaws? What about your career, your mothers?” I want to ask—what about me?
She stops what she’s doing and cups my cheek with her hand. Her skin is cool and I close my eyes when she touches me.
“None of it means anything to me, Jackal. My mothers have always been their own unit; they’ll be fine. I understand them more than I ever have, which I’m grateful for...it helps. But Gwen, Rebel, all the other babies—they mean something. The people who can’t help themselves, they mean something to me. I have to do this. This is who I want to be, not some timed-out ballerina with an eating disorder.” She drops her hand from my face and lifts the bag to her shoulder.
“If the SI comes here, they’ll be able to look at their satellite footage and see everything that’s happened in the house,” I say. “Including the conversation we just had about Gwen and where you’re going.”
“I know that,” she says quietly.
“Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I'll be careful.” She turns to me and leans her forehead on my chest. I wrap my arms around her head and lean my nose into her hair.
“When will I see you again?”
