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She hugs me tight for a moment more, then turns and heads for the door, calling over her shoulder, "I'll be there next Friday morning, Sunshine, at that café across the street. I'll see you then…or I'll remember you always."
She's gone before I can break down and really sob.
I spend the week thinking, just like Hadria wanted me to. I spend it thinking of every bad thing at Elysium, from theeternal darkness of the place, to the not-so-nice people there sometimes, to the fact that Hadria is a killer, a criminal, remorseless and ruthless and unlikely to change.
But all of those things fade into the background when I think about how Hadria makes me feel. About the changes that Elysium has wrought in me, about Lyssa's tutelage, about the friends I've made there—because I do consider that group of trainees my friends, now.
I've never had friends before. I've never been able to stand up for myself before Lyssa's lessons.
And I've never felt about someone the way I feel about Hadria.
She really did give me a billion dollars.A billion dollars. I checked the account. And I think about all the places I could go with money like that, and all the good I could do in the world, too.
I think hard, all week.
But I already knew my decision even before I arrived here at the safe house, and by the time Friday morning rolls around, it hasn't changed.
I will be returning to Elysium. Returning to Hadria. And…I plan to tell her how I feel about her. Because if there's one thing this week has given me, it's perspective. And I know for sure, now, what it is I feel.
I love her.
I love Hadria Imperioli, with all her faults and flaws, despite all the terrible things she's done in her life, despite what she did tome.
I love her. And I want to find a way to forgive her, to erase the bad beginning that we had. I want to find a way to be with her, to shape a life together.
I know it's the right decision because of how calm I feel once I've made it. But as the hour comes closer, the clock ticking over maddeningly slowly, I feel a bubbling joy inside as well. I can't wait to see her. Oh, God, I can't wait.
I run out to the terrace, the huge terrace with a pool that I've spent hours floating in this week, looking up at the blue sky, soaking in the sun, and I look down to the café on the street in the building opposite. I must have had some sixth sense, because I see her, right away—walking down the sidewalk, that catwalk stride she has, stomping her feet and swinging her hips, her fists shoved deep in her leather jacket's pockets. Even from this bird's eye view, she's unmistakable.
And she'searly. I don't have to wait a single second longer.
I grab my phone—over the last week, it's somehow become indispensable—and I bolt for the door, stabbing impatiently at the elevator button on the landing outside the apartment. I'm on the top floor, and the elevator is a private one, leading down to the lobby.
It's the longest elevator ride of my life. And when I get down there, I'm shoving through the elevator doors before they're fully open, heading for the door to the street?—
But there's a man coming in at the same time, a man with the most enormous bouquet of flowers I've ever seen in my whole life. It takes up half his body, so that I can only see his feet and legs, and his hands around the large box from which the flowers are pouring out.
All my favorites. All the flowers from the night garden. Snowdrops and white roses and calla lilies and and baby's breath?—
"Ms. Verderosa?" says the man from behind the flowers.
"Yes?" I say.
"These are for you. Lucky I ran into you, these things are an armful! A gift from someone calling herself…Hadria? Is that right? Well anyway, I just need you to sign for them, if you could—" He staggers over to the reception desk. It's never staffed; Hadria told me when she took me here that she chose this place on purpose, since she didn't need someone watching her coming and going.
The delivery man deposits the huge bouquet on the desk and turns to me with an electronic tablet and an expectant look.
"Oh, but I—" I begin, casting a longing look across the road. This was a lovely gesture from Hadria, but she'sright therein person across the road.
The man's face drops. "Please, ma'am, just a quick signature here—I'm running late this morning already, and it'd really help me out if you could just?—"
"Of course," I say quickly. I approach him, looking at the tablet. "I sign on this?"
"That's right. Just use your finger."
I reach out to sign, and as I do, his other hand comes up, and I feel a sharp sting in my arm. "What are you—" I begin, and take a step back, my instincts finally kicking in as I see him throw aside a hypodermic syringe.
The hypodermic syringe he just used to inject me.
