Page 77

"I need to stop soon," I say, changing the subject. "Bathroom break."

Sebastian nods, checking the gas gauge. "We need to fill up anyway. I'll find somewhere quiet."

Twenty minutes later, we pull into a small gas station off the highway. There's only one other car there, an old sedan with a man filling it up. Sebastian parks at the pump furthest from him.

"Stay in the car until I check it out," he says, his hand moving to the gun tucked into his waistband. "If anything happens, anything at all, get down and hide. If someone tries to get in the car who isn’t me, shoot them."

"Sebastian—"

"Promise me, Estella." His eyes are intense, his gaze fixed on mine. "Your safety is what matters most."

I swallow hard and nod. "I promise."

He leans over and kisses me, hard and fast, before getting out of the car. I watch as he scans the area, his body tense and ready. The man with the pickup doesn't even look our way, focused on his own business. Sebastian starts pumping gas, his eyes never stopping their constant surveillance.

When he's done, he comes to my window. "I'm going to pay inside and check the bathroom. Lock the doors when I go."

I do as he says, watching him walk into the small convenience store. My heart is pounding, and I realize this is how it's going to be now. Every stop, every interaction with the outside world, will be fraught with danger.

Sebastian returns a few minutes later, tapping on the window. I unlock the doors, and he motions for me to get out.

"All clear," he says. "Bathroom's around the side. I'll walk you there."

The bathroom is small and grimy, but I don't care. I take care of business quickly, washing my hands and splashing water on my face. When I look in the mirror, I barely recognize myself. My face is completely clear of makeup, my cheeks pink and rosy. My hair is badly in need of a good brushing—one thing that I didn’t grab from Sebastian’s apartment and should have—and I look alittle tired. My clothes are oversized, and I look like I just rolled out of bed a few hours ago.

I look nothing like the polished, perfect daughter of Antony Gallo.

And I kind of like it.

When I come out, Sebastian is waiting, his back to the wall, eyes scanning constantly. He takes my hand and leads me back to the car, and we're on the road again within minutes.

"We should get you some clothes," he says after a while. "There's a mall in the next big town. We can stop there, get what you need."

"Is it safe?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Nowhere is completely safe. But a crowded mall is better than a small store. Easier to blend in, harder for anyone to try anything."

I nod, looking down at my "I could use something that fits."

Sebastian's eyes flick to me, a small smile playing at his lips. "You look beautiful in anything, dove. And I can’t say I mind seeing you wearing my clothes."

Heat rises to my cheeks. Even after everything we've done together, the way he looks at me still makes me blush. "You're biased."

"Completely," he agrees, reaching over to take my hand again. "But it's still true."

Two hours later, we're walking through a mall in a city whose name I didn't even catch. Sebastian insisted I wear a baseball cap he bought at the gas station, pulling my hair through the back in a ponytail. He's wearing sunglasses, his own cap pulled low over his eyes. We look like any other couple shopping on a weekday morning.

Except for the gun at his back, tucked under his shirt, and the way his eyes never stop moving.

"Get whatever you need," he says as we enter a department store, taking out his wallet and handing me several folded bills. "But we need to be quick.”

I nod, heading straight for the women's section. I grab jeans, T-shirts, and underwear, glancing around to see where the shoe section might be. Basic things, practical things. Nothing flashy or expensive that might draw attention. Nothing like what I would have worn back home. I don’t bother with a jacket or hoodie—I like the idea of wearing Sebastian’s, still, if it gets chilly enough or if I need to cover up my face.

I gauge the sizes as best as I can, trying on one pair of the jeans and a black T-shirt. They fit well, and I tear off the tags, taking the rest of the stack and Sebastian’s clothes to the counter, along with a pair of boots and sneakers that I found in the shoe section. I pay with the cash he gave me, shove his old clothes into one of the shopping bags that the blonde girl who rings me up hands me, and hurry back to join him where he’s waiting a few feet away, scanning the store.

Sebastian smiles when he sees me. “Better?” he asks, and I nod.

“Much. Thank you,” I add quickly, and he leans in to give me a brief kiss.