I climb back into the car and drive until I see the glow of a twenty-four-hour pharmacy. The girl behind the counter is young and she doesn’t look up from her phone as I raid the shelves for supplies.
She checks me out without hesitating over anything I place on the belt. I’m sure she’s seen it all. Especially at two in the morning.
Then I make my way to a motel.
Running is oddly familiar to me. Dante and I lived in the same apartment for years, but the mindset of being on the run never quite left my system. It’s only in the last few weeks that I let myself consider the possibility that we would settle down somewhere. Naively, I thought Mikhail’s mansion could become home.
I may not want you to die, but that doesn’t mean I want you.
I block out the echo of Mikhail’s words. I can’t dwe
