When Mikhail first brought us here, I stashed a duffel bag under my bed, filled with everything I’d need if Dante and I had to get gone fast. It was my emergency exit plan. I almost forgot about it.
There’s a fine layer of dust on the top of the bag when I pull it out from under the bed. I sweep it off and unzip it.
There are a few changes of clothes, a roll of cash that could get us three or four nights in a cheap motel—but only if we’re okay sharing with bedbugs—and toothbrushes. The bare necessities.
Except, Dante needs more than this. For years, I thought as long as Dante and I had each other, we had everything we needed. It’s a romantic idea, but things have changed.
He needs his father. He needs stability.
“But he won’t have that here, will he?” I whisper to myself.
The truth h
