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“You can set up a facial recognition bot that’ll alert you if any cameras spot her. Whether it’s from restaurants, stores, or gas stations. We can’t rely on it, though, because while Francesca is the one most likely to appear in public, she also has the advantage of disguising herself better than men. Facial recognition is advanced, but it’s not foolproof.”

I tip my head side to side in a you have a point gesture. “If anyone knows how to use makeup, it’s her,” I concede. She’s had a lot of practice bringing the dead to life—with her own face and with the girls she held captive.

Daya’s hands continue to fly, following Zade’s directions without hesitation.

Sibby has her chin in one hand and drums her fingers on the table with the other—clearly bored. Her interests lie more in taking action than the planning aspect.

“I’ll track down Xavier Delano,” Zade says, shooting a loaded glance my way. “We should be able to find him easily. I have a good feeling he’s not as smart about covering his tracks as the others.”

“That’d be awfully egotistical of him. It’s not like he didn’t know that I was… uh, with Z… or whatever.” Zade smirks over my stumble. I roll my eyes, intent on ignoring him, but then Daya betrays me and snorts, flicking her gaze at me with amusement.

Assholes.

The lot of them.

“Shut up,” I snap. “I don’t know what to label it.”

“Fuck buddy?” Daya provides, but that doesn’t sound quite right. The brow cocked on Zade’s forehead tells me he feels the same.

“Lover!” Sibby chips in cheerfully.

My lip curls in disgust. Hate that label.

“Oh, admirer,” Daya says, snapping her fingers as if she hit the nail on the head.

“One true love,” Sibby sighs wistfully. She glances off to the side, seeming to listen to something before she rolls her eyes. “Okay, five true loves.”

My eyes pinball between the two idiots as they continue to toss out words that could define mine and Zade’s relationship.

“How about just stalker,” I cut in dryly.

“Come on, baby, that’s not what you were calling me when you were screa—”

“Shut up, or I’ll start screaming other men’s names and I promise I don’t need your dick anywhere near me to do it.”

Challenge sparks in his eyes, signaling that this conversation is quickly taking a nosedive.

“You really want to cause mass extinction for those names? Moan them, little mouse, I dare you. Whichever ones you choose, not a single man by that name will fucking exist anymore. How about we start with Chad? We can definitely live without the Chads in the world.”

My mouth pops open. “That is so… excessive.”

He shrugs, turning to take the mac ‘n’ cheese out of the oven, “Doesn’t change a damn thing.”

My wide eyes drift back down to Daya’s, hers equally as rounded as mine. I give her a look that says, you see what I have to deal with? in which she returns, good luck, Sister Susie.

I look at Sibby and find her staring off into space, whispering to one of her henchmen about unsanitary ways to use the popsicles in the freezer.

Oh my God. I’m living with nothing but psychopaths.

I knew this but fuck me.

Hey, God? Do ya mind sending down some medication to correct your gross mishandling of these two demented souls?

Shaking my head, I turn to Zade, who is now serving the mac ‘n’ cheese on plates for us, alongside the steaks he cooked on the grill. Something I was surprised to learn—Zade can fucking cook.

“How long do you think it’ll take to locate Xavier?”