Chapter 45

• —Ellie—
• Outside of Mexico we traded in the car for the private jet belonging to the Outfit. I huddled in my seat, my cheek pressed to the window, watching the city grow smaller in the distance. Dad sat across from me, looking and not looking at me, caught somewhere between utter relief and hopeless despair.
• I knew what a pitiful sight I was. Bloody and torn dress. Bite marks all over my throat. My uncle was talking quietly on the phone, but he, too, slanted the occasional look at me. The only one who hadn’t looked at me after I flinched from his touch was Drake. He leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees, staring blankly at the floor. Guilt and a flicker of sadness washed over me. For him. For us. For what could have been and never would.