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Is it wrong if I take it? It feels wrong, but it's just a suitcase. I'm sure it meant next to nothing to her. And what would they do with it now anyway?

Fuck it.

I grab it by the handle and bring it to the bed; I barely look at it while I throw the clothes inside, quietly apologizing to her as I do.

"She wouldn't have minded." I jump before I turn and see Declan leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. "She was always very selfless."

He enters the room and sits on the edge of the bed. I don't respond, continuing to pack the bag, feeling him watching me. When I'm finished, I grab a couple of books I'd taken from the library and set them on top, closing and zipping the bag slowly, waiting to see if he'll tell me I can't take them.

"What about this one?" Declan asks, holding up the Lovecraft book he'd given me a couple of days ago.

"I finished it the other day," I tell him.

"You didn't like it?"

"No, I liked it. I thought about it a lot, actually."

"What'd you think about?"

"I wondered what would happen if your world were discovered. If it became uninhabitable."

"It's already been discovered," he says. "These mountains aren't what I hide behind—it's wealth. We pay people not to look. But someday, society will return to its violent roots, and real power will actually matter again—and the people who are willing to take it. If I had one wish, it would be that I'd live long enough to see it."

"Well, good luck."

"And it's not just us, Teagan. There are thousands of us, and our reach is infinite. If you're leaving, you need to know that."

"Is that a threat?"

"Yes."

"I thought you said I had to leave."

"You can stay," he says, "if you want."

"What? Why?"

"Because…I think we can give you what you want."

"How do you know what I want?"

He shakes his head. "You told me, Teagan. Don't you remember? Freedom."

"Yeah," I tell him. "I remember."

"We're staying at a hotel downtown tonight. If you are going, let me know when you book your flight—I'll have a car take you to the airport."

"Um…thanks."

He stands and starts toward the door, then doubles back. He bends down, picks something up from the floor, and then takes it with him.

It's the bear—Layla's bear. The one she said he won for her at the fair.

"Hey, wait," I say.

He pauses at the door's threshold, waiting.

"Why didn't you tell her you loved her?" I ask. "When she was dying—why didn't you say it?"