Norman fills me in on the rest of the details and ends up packing for me. My suitcase is filled with foreign clothes and disguises designed and labeled by him. And my camera, the only thing I care to take. When Norman asks if I’d like to be alone one more time to say good-bye to the mansion, I look at him like he’s gone mad.

My heart pounds as we cross the foyer to the front door. Sunlight pierces the dusky room when Norman cracks the door. I pass through a shimmering cloud of dust particles to the doorway. I just catch Norman’s concerned expression before I allow myself one slow, controlled step outside. I walk down the solid stairs and onto the gravel driveway. Carter hulks over the car, leaning both elbows on the roof. We make eye contact, and I glance at Norman, who nods.

I don’t look back, not even to make sure this isn’t a cruel joke and Calvin’s there, ready to snatch and lock me inside again. My steps pick up speed, my suitcase tumbling behind me. When I get there, Carter is opening my door and ushering me inside with a quick glance around the area.

When he’s in the driver’s seat, he glances at me in the rearview mirror. “Ready for your trip, Cataline?”

“Get me away from here. I just want this nightmare to be over.”

I say this as though it matters what I want. Wherever I go, Calvin can find me. He doesn’t want to though, and I hate what the thought inspires in me. I abruptly douse that ember of longing. He wants me gone just as much as I want to be gone. For the first time in a while, I sigh with relief. I let myself believe the lie that I’m finally safe again. Finally free.

43

“You make me real. When you breathe into me, when you’re inside me, expanding, coming, you make me real.”

“You make yourself real, Cataline.”

“No. I wasn’t real until I felt you inside me.”

Was stripping myself bare and taking all of Calvin inside my body a dream? How can loving someone who doesn’t exist feel so real?

It’s not until Carter and I have been driving for some time that I tune in to my surroundings. My heart fills amongst the tall, glowering buildings of New Rhone, and the car’s reflection warps in silver, mirrored windows. It seems more sinister than it did months ago, the skyscrapers blending with a grey sky. It’s a haven nonetheless.

My mood plummets when I orient myself, though. The buildings shrink to standalone, rundown shops that appear deserted. One is on fire. Some pedestrians scramble to put it out while others lean against the opposite building, cigarettes sagging from their mouths.

The car suddenly veers from the pavement onto a dirt path. “Carter?” I ask as I jostle in my seat. “Maybe I’ve never flown before, but I know there aren’t any airports on the East Side.”

“Don’t worry, Cataline. It’s part of the plan.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.”

Out the window, I look for anything familiar through the cloud of dust the car kicks up. I slip my hand into the door handle. With the sudden pounding of my heart, my scarred wrists pulsate. They don’t think I can outrun Carter. My eyes close, and I pull with no result.

“You were locked up in that house a long time,” Carter says. “Few months.”

“Where are you taking me?”

He looks thoughtfully out the windshield, as though I’m not even here. “My wife, she’s been nagging me to get out of this job since we had a kid.”

“What makes you think I care?”

He sighs. “I don’t know. I guess I just want you to know that I don’t feel good about this. So I go to Parish, tell him to hire help. A mansion’s too much for one man, even with all that high-tech shit. I’m thinking maybe with another guy, eventually I can leave.”

“What’s this have to do with me?”

He twists to glance at me over his shoulder. “Good you didn’t lose your nerve. Some girls would’ve.” He turns forward again. “Anyway, he basically tells me to fuck off. Won’t give me vacation because there’s nobody else. Won’t let me quit, even though my wife says she’s had it.”

“It’s a job,” I say. “Why can’t you just leave?”

He’s quiet a few moments, so I assume the conversation is over. Finally he says, “He’s a killer, you know.” He looks at me in the rearview mirror. “Calvin is. He’s killed a lot of people. Nothing more important to him than his secrets. Not one thing, not no one.”

Up ahead is the outline of what look like shacks. I fumble for the lock while watching the front of the car.

“Cartel came to me, and at first I said no way. Parish might be a bastard, but he’s not a bad guy, and he does good for this city. They threatened my family, Cataline. So I told them in exchange for Hero, I want a new life. I’m taking my family out of here—out of Parish’s reach. He’d kill me for it, so the Cartel’s getting me out of the country soon as I deliver you. My wife and kid—he’s five-years-old next month—they’re waiting for me at home, bags packed.”

“You don’t have to do it this way,” I say. “I’ll talk to Calvin about your job. I’ll tell him—”

“You think he gives a damn? What I’m trying to say is he’d kill me before he let me go. I tried to do this without you. Set it up so Hero went to them. Thought of all these ways I could catch him by surprise. But this guy I’m dealing with, he says you’re the answer.”

“They’ll kill me, Carter.”

“Nah. They have no reason to. You’re just bait.”

I wait for him to continue, but he pulls the car up to one of the huts and parks. “I’m sorry, kid. I am. They might rough you up a little, probably no more than Parish did. They won’t kill you, though. My advice is tell them what they want to know so they don’t hurt you. It’s just Parish they’re after, and I get the feeling you need to see him suffer more than anyone.”

The car door’s ominous slam reverberates through the leather seat underneath me. It’s the first time my role in this feud feels real. Hero has made a dangerous enemy in the Cartel, and leverage against someone as cold as Calvin is limited.

I try every handle in the car, searching for an unlock button that doesn’t seem to exist. Through the windshield, Carter approaches a boy who looks barely teenaged. They stand outside a building with crumbling brick walls that’s one of a few in a field of golden, dead grass.

When the teenager vanishes inside, I recognize the man who takes his place right away. Ash-blond hair combed away from a handsome, tan face. His square jaw is hard as he frowns, listening to Carter. Tension runs in ribbons through his muscular arms, his tattoos dancing in a splash of bright colors from under his rolled-up sleeves.

Carter gestures to the car, and Guy Fowler’s eyes cut right to me. I think I was afraid of him the first time I saw him, but I didn’t realize it. Now, I see a sort of recklessness in his blue eyes, something too disturbing for such a pretty face. I get the feeling the version of hell where Guy is in charge will be different from the one I’m escaping.

I reach over the front seat to check the driver’s door. It opens just as I reach for the handle, and a hand slaps over my wrist.

“Hey,” Carter says. “This could get ugly if we’re not careful. Just listen, and do what they say, okay?” He yanks hard on my wrist and pulls me out of the car, ignoring the way my body bumps and jerks over the console.

I fall into the dirt at Carter’s feet, fighting as he drags me. “Let go of me,” I say.

“Let go,” Fowler echoes from the porch, and Carter’s grip releases instantly.

I get to my feet, vainly brushing dirt from my jeans. Fowler stands motionless as I walk to him.

“Cataline,” he greets, his mouth quirking into a smile. “I wasn’t sure Carter could pull it off, but here you are.”

“He won’t come after me,” I say. “I’m just a fuck toy gone to the trash.”

Guy’s expression falls, and after a moment, he shakes his head and tsks. “Ay, díos mio. What’s he done to my sweet girl?” His head inclines toward his shoulder. I flinch away when he touches my hair. “We never did get that date, did we? A certain someone came between us.”