After several minutes of anxiously pacing the motel room, I decide to call my mother. As soon as she realizes my phone isn’t pinging my location anymore, she’ll worry.

“Where are you?” My mother’s panicked voice cracks through the phone as soon as she picks up.

“Mom, calm down.” I get up and start to pace again. “I’m fine.”

“Calm down? You’re with a man who kills people for a living, and you’re asking me to calm down? I just buried you, Isabel. I endured a wake, a funeral, a burial, and a reception in my home with all of our friends and family. For days I’ve pretended in front of everyone that you were dead and being lowered into the ground. To pull that off, I had to make myself believe it, and then suddenly your phone is off and I can’t reach you.”

The hysteria in her voice is unlike anything I’ve ever heard. “Mom, please. I’m sorry, okay? Please calm down. I promise you, I’m fine.”

“Are you still in New York?”

I sigh, embattled over this tug of war between her and Tristan that I don’t expect will ever go away. He craves anonymity, and she’s going to lose her mind if she doesn’t know where I am.

“Not anymore,” I say. “We’re just outside Philadelphia.”

“What are you doing there?”

“I… We had to see someone. And then I think we’re heading to Florida.” I rub my forehead vigorously because I’m not sure how to explain all of this, but I’m not sure she’ll give me any choice.

“What’s in Florida?”

“There’s a woman Tristan’s been hired to take care of. Obviously he’s not going to do that, but we’re going to talk to her and see if we can maybe figure out who might want her dead.”

I can only hear her breathing on the other end of the phone. Calming down, I hope, though this news could have the opposite effect.

“This is a dangerous game you’re playing, Isabel. Trust me, it almost cost me you.”

“I know that. But it’s a game Tristan knows. This is his playground. His kind of people.”

“Which is exactly why you shouldn’t be along for the ride. I sent you to Martine’s to keep you safe. Not so you could throw yourself right back into danger with him.”

I’m quiet a moment, contemplating what she’s done. Never mind these choices are mine now. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for her vengeance. If Tristan hadn’t left to begin with…

“Did you know about Dad’s involvement in recruiting Tristan into the army?”

She pauses. “What are you talking about?”

“I found a letter that Dad wrote, recommending him for a Special Forces team.” I pause. “Did you know about it?”

Silence stretches between us.

The anger and resentment I felt the night I discovered the letter is compounded now. “I can’t believe it. All this time, you knew. You watched everything fall apart between us, and that was exactly what you wanted.” I bite my lip hard, consumed with disbelief, utterly betrayed.

I hear her sigh through the phone.

“Morgan came to me with the idea, and I’ll admit that I didn’t oppose it. We were worried about you, Isabel. We did it out of love. You were becoming inseparable. After his mother died, we barely saw you.”

“He needed me!” I halt my pacing. “He was alone and we were in love, and you couldn’t even come to the service. You did nothing to support us, and all we wanted was to be together. Thanks to you, nothing’s changed except we’ve lost time we’ll never get back.”

“You were meant for more than to be some boy’s emotional crutch at that age. He would have held you back terribly, and you would have grown to resent it in time. I didn’t want to see you go through that and miss out on opportunities you’d never have again. We did it for you. Don’t you see that? You mean everything to us. We’d give our lives for you.”

“Yet Tristan and I are the ones who’ve given our lives because of the choices you made. You set us on this path, and now you’re going to have to deal with where it takes us. Don’t call me again.”

I hang up and drop the phone on the bed. I’m tempted to turn it off. Sever the last lifeline she has to me as punishment for a betrayal so painful I can barely process it right now. But no matter how angry I am with her, I can’t stoop to her level. Maybe she and my father held no reservations about strategically cutting Tristan out of my life, but I can’t manage to cut her out of mine knowing the anguish it would give her.

I stare at the phone, half expecting her to call back, when I hear shuffling outside. Then the rattle of keys, the twist of the knob, and a face I never thought I’d see again. I bring my hand to my mouth as Tristan guides the beaten woman through the doorway and shuts the door behind them.

I look between them, grasping for an explanation. But no one says anything, and the longer I look at Jay, the more panicked I become. Tristan couldn’t have done this. It had to have been Crow. Why else would Tristan have brought her here?

“Does she need a doctor?”

I doubt it’s an option, but she looks like she’s ready to drop.

“No. I’m fine,” she whispers, sounding anything but fine. “Just a shower would be nice, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

I lead her to the dingy little bathroom and turn on the shower. When I face her again, her arms are wrapped tightly around herself like she might unravel if she lets go.

“I can bring you something clean to wear.”

“Thank you, Isabel.”

The last time I heard her say my name in her office at Trinity House, things had been very different. I didn’t know then that Jude McKenna was the woman who pulled the strings and had managed Tristan’s life as an assassin for as long as he could remember. All I knew was that her presence was unsettling, bordering on frightening. But any power she held over me then has swiftly diminished.

The woman before me is someone else. I feel for her, but knowing what she’s capable of, I’m afraid to give her all my compassion.

She slowly begins to unbutton her soiled blouse with trembling fingers.

“Do you need help?”

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

With that, I leave to give her privacy. I find a shirt and some pants in my bag and sneak them onto the bathroom counter for her once she’s hidden behind the shower curtain. When I return, Tristan’s sitting on one of the beds with his head in his hands.

“What happened?”

He lifts his gaze to mine, his mouth a rigid line. “I couldn’t leave her there. Not when I set this up. Part of it, anyway.”

“They did all that to get her to talk to them?”

He closes his eyes and scrapes his fingers along his scalp. “They did all that and more.”

I frown. Then his meaning dawns on me. “They didn’t…”

“They did. Well, one of them had his way with her, anyway. Don’t worry. I took care of him.”

My eyes go wide. “Tristan.”

He stands up abruptly and faces me. “What do you want me to do? Tell me what you want me to do, because I have no idea anymore. I used to trust my instincts, and now I don’t trust anything. I hate this woman.” He points to the bathroom where the sound of the shower spray goes on and on. “I hate her. I know you do too. But when I saw her there, tied up and ready to get sliced up by those idiots, all I could register was guilt and rage. And when I taught the guy who touched her a lesson, it felt like justice. So tell me, Isabel, what would you do if you were me? Should I have left her there for them to finish her off?”

“I’m not saying that. I just…” I swallow over the uncomfortable thought of Tristan killing—for hire or for circumstance. None of it sits well with me. “It’s hard for me to think about you…ending someone’s life.”

He paces back and forth. “He might be all right. I don’t know. I don’t have it in me to care.”

I try to push the disturbing thought away. More important things are at play. We have Jay, a dangerous but badly beaten woman on our hands. “What are we going to do now?”

“We can’t stay here much longer,” Tristan says. “Between Crow and whoever from the Company knew about our meeting, there are too many people looking for us.”

“Your meeting?”

He walks away, pauses with his back to me. “Crow wanted me to lure her out. So when she sent the info on Aguilera that night, I asked for a meeting with her I never planned to take.”

I set my jaw tightly. “And you never told me.”

He turns back. “The look on your face when you saw Jay walk through the door is exactly why I didn’t. Because I knew things could get ugly, and if they did, you’re the last person I wanted to know about it. You don’t have the stomach for this kind of shit, Isabel.”

I ball my fists, riled at his routine underestimation. Also because he’s right. “Apparently you don’t either since you couldn’t leave her there.”

He narrows his eyes. “Should I have left her there to die? Should I have let the rest of Crow’s guys take their turn with her?”

I wince, disgusted by the prospect of her enduring more than she already has. “I didn’t say that. But don’t act like I’m the only one who gives a shit. You obviously care about this woman.”

“Then why did I give her to Crow if I care so fucking much?”

I feel the uncertainty in the question despite the angry way he delivers it. Like he’s asking himself why the same way I am. Could he have predicted that Crow’s men would act like such animals with a defenseless woman? Did Tristan expect her to live through whatever interrogation they’d planned? I don’t know, and I’m not sure I want to. But I trust that when faced with the results, he got her away from there because he’s not the soulless person he believed himself to be for so long. And maybe even more because of the important place Jay held in his narrow existence.

Just then the shower stops. A few tense minutes pass before Jay emerges in my black shirt and yoga pants, her hair wet, her skin pink where it’s not discolored everywhere else. Her feet are bare. Narrow and feminine. She crosses her arms around her slender torso again and looks between us.

“So what’s the plan, Jay?” Tristan asks, his tone less heated than it had been a moment ago.

“You’re asking me?”

Jay’s voice has a little more strength than it had before. She seems fortified somehow. No doubt by the enormous relief of knowing she’s not going to die after everything she’s been through. Even if she knows what Tristan’s capable of, she has to know that’s not the kind of person I am.

“You must have had a plan when you asked Crow to bring me here and talk to you. We may as well get our intentions out in the open if any of us hope to get out of this mess alive.”

“I’m at your mercy. Even if I hadn’t told Crow everything I did, the Company would probably still want me dead. I can’t resurface. All I can do is hide. So you can help me hide, or…” She swallows. “It’s in your hands, Tristan. I’ll fight for my life, but that’s about all I have the energy for right now.”

A long silence follows. A silence filled with possibilities, doubts, and a growing seed of worry that Jay’s about to become a fixture in my world, something I never expected.

“We were heading south,” Tristan finally says.

Her eyes narrow slightly, as if she’s calculating something. “Aguilera?”

“That was the plan.”

“It’s too obvious,” she says. “They’ll send someone else to take care of her, but they’ll be waiting for you to show up first.”

“Halo… They could hide her,” I say.

If Jay recognizes the name, she doesn’t show it.

Tristan meets my gaze. We’re homeless, rootless, and running again. The closest place to home for me was Halo, and it’s been calling me back for days.

“I guess we’ll find out if they want to make this their problem,” he says.

I shrug. “It’s better than showing up where they’ll most expect us.”

Jay shifts on her feet uncomfortably, no doubt fully aware that she’s the problem. Her existence. The Company she represents. Everything she knows.

Except if she’s given Crow information, maybe now we’ll finally get some too. Learn about the Company and how we can be rid of them, once and for all. Jay is a snake. I don’t trust her. But by some odd twist of fate, her survival now hinges on ours.

“What about the woman, though? If we don’t get to her first…” My voice trails off.

Jay and Tristan share a brief look. I’m certain she doesn’t care if this woman dies, but Tristan is beginning to. Neither of us wants her blood on our hands. But how do we get Devon Aguilera out of the crosshairs without putting ourselves in danger?

I look to Tristan, not wanting to say Makanga’s name in front of a woman I still very much consider the enemy. “What about the Postman?”

He nods. “I’ll have him leave tonight. Be ready to leave in five minutes.”

Tristan makes his call outside, and soon after, we’re on the road.

We drive for an hour and make a short stop for food and supplies. While Tristan and Jay wait, I spend more time than I probably should in the local supercenter, picking up things for the two-day journey and also for Jay, whose ordeal has me more conflicted by the minute. I’m devastated by what she’s endured tonight. But I also can’t ignore that she’s facilitated the death of likely hundreds of people over the past several years. In the end, my instinct to comfort a woman in distress can’t be overruled by the awful things she’s done.

“Jesus, Isabel. What is all this?”

Back in the car, I ignore Tristan’s exasperated tone as I sort through the bags.

“Here,” I say, handing back a pillow and blanket for Jay and a bag of snacks and drinks that will hopefully sustain us for a while.

I don’t miss her hesitation accepting the small comforts, or the gratitude in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she utters, barely above a whisper.

As Tristan guides us back onto the highway, she carefully unpackages the blanket and wraps herself up tightly, taking the full width of the back seat to rest. A few minutes go by before she dozes off.

A few hours later, when I can no longer stay alert on the road, Tristan seems to notice. He threads his hand in mine and strokes his thumb rhythmically. “Get some rest. I’ll wake you up, and we can switch off in a few hours.”

I doubt he’ll let me take a shift, but I’m too wiped out to deny the offer to sleep. So I drift off too, lulled into slumber by darkness and the hum of the highway.

We drive until dawn, when Isabel wakes and insists we stop for food. Jay’s in no condition to be seen in public, so we get drive-through and a more respectable room at a hotel just outside Chattanooga, more than halfway to our destination.

We eat in silence. Isabel and Jay at the table. Me on one of the beds. I catch Isabel staring at Jay every once in a while, studying her visible wounds.

“Do you want me to get you some ice?”

Jay tries to smile, though it seems like the small motion causes her pain. “That might help. Thank you.”

“I can get it,” I say.

But Isabel’s already halfway out the door. “I’ve got it.”

Jay drags a french fry through a pile of ketchup. “She’s very sweet. Thoughtful.”

I don’t acknowledge her comment. I’m not about to start singing Isabel’s praises to a woman who hired me to kill her. That and Isabel’s qualities can’t be summed up with common words. Nothing could capture the soul of her or the thousand perfect, maddening things that make her the only human being in the world I’m ready to make every sacrifice for.

“Where is this place you’re taking me to?” Jay’s question disrupts my thoughts.

“A safehouse of sorts. They’ve been at odds with the Boswell family for years, though. So I’m not really sure how this is going to work.”

A few silent moments pass before she speaks again. “There’s someone else who might be able to help me.”

“Who is it?”

She closes her eyes and exhales softly.

“Jay, you’re going to have to start talking eventually.”

“I realize that. It just goes against every instinct.”

“I can relate.”

She looks up. “You’ve changed, haven’t you?”

I take a big bite of my sandwich, because I don’t know how to respond. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve changed or if there was someone better hiding inside me all this time. Isabel seems to think so, and I want to believe her. Still, I don’t want Jay thinking I won’t hesitate to do whatever I need to do to keep Isabel and myself safe. She’s vulnerable and completely dependent on my good will now, but that doesn’t mean I have to put her totally at ease.

“Maybe I just did bad things because that’s the only life I knew.”

A sad smile lifts her lips, but she doesn’t say anything more.

“So who’s your lifeline, other than me, of course. Family?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t have any family.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Honestly, Tristan. If I had anyone I cared about, I couldn’t do what I do. It’d be too risky. The only life I can take responsibility for is my own.” She takes another bite of food and swallows it down. “It’s Townsend.”

I pause. “Townsend?” I know his name from the files I snatched from Jay’s office, long since destroyed but burned into my memory all the same. If it’s the same Townsend, he’s a British-born spy, an enemy of the state on more than one count and reclusive enough that I’ve never crossed paths with him.

“I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“He doesn’t like to be met, generally.”

“Then why would he take you in?”

She collects her hair, a dark auburn, and twists it to lay over her shoulder. “Sometimes connections are made.”

“So he’s your favorite.” I can’t help the teasing in my voice. “I was beginning to think I was.”

She smirks. “You’re the best. That’s different.” She looks up, her eyes more somber. “I’m in your debt for what you did back there with Crow. I haven’t given you a lot of reasons to show me mercy.”

Isabel returns with a bucket of ice before I can respond, which is fine because I don’t want to. I’d rather not contemplate the uncomfortable attachment I have to Jay, which has kept me from ending her life not once but twice.

We finish eating, and even though the sunshine is pouring in through the windows, we pull the drapes closed and resign ourselves to a few hours of rest before we get on the road again. I take the bed nearest the door and tuck Isabel against me. Only when I hear the two women’s soft snores do I let myself drift.

I jolt awake at the sound of loud voices outside the room. I sit upright, blinking away sleep as the voices get quieter. Just other hotel patrons passing by the room. I check the digital clock on the table, noting that more than a few hours have passed. Jay is obscured under the blanket on the other bed.

I rub Isabel’s shoulder gently until she wakes. Her eyes widen quickly, and she glances around the room. “What is it?”

“Everything’s fine. It’s just time to get back on the road.”

She relaxes against her pillow with a heavy sigh. I straighten the pendant at her neck that’s slipped to the side in her sleep and talk myself out of kissing her, knowing it’ll lead to things I’m in no position to finish. Her sleepy gaze locks with mine, and our hands fold together.

“Do you think they’ll hide her?”

She’s talking about Halo, and I’ve asked myself the same question about a hundred times since we left New Jersey. Because I can’t spend the rest of my life babysitting Jay, and I obviously can’t kill her or leave someone else to do it. She’s my responsibility now until someone else can take her in. I hope to hell Martine is that person.

“If Martine’s still in the business of soul saving, I can’t think of a more desperate candidate.”