Page 165 of Cruel Romeo

“I need your help.” I take out a fat stack of bills and put it on the table. “To make me disappear. Again.”

Angel gives me a critical once-over. “I take it Sammi Banks has run her course?”

I blink. “You… remember?”

Her mouth twitches, not quite a smile. “You were twelve, kiddo. That’s hard to forget. Stubborn as hell, too. Kept saying you weren’t going back no matter what.”

Sadness knots my stomach. That girl feels like another lifetime. I could use some of her determination right now. Remember how it felt to have nothing to lose.

“Yeah.” I force myself to nod. “Sammi’s done.”

Angel doesn’t argue. Just fires up her laptop and starts typing.

I hover nearby, arms wrapped tight around myself.

Finally, after what feels like ages but is probably around ten minutes, she slides a laminated card across her desk. “Here.”

I pick it up with trembling fingers. “‘Felicity Bennet’?”

“Figured you could use a well-wish.”

She shrugs like it’s nothing. But it’s not nothing to me.

I stare at the name. My chest fills with warmth.Felicity.Happiness. The one thing I couldn’t have as Sammi.

Perhaps, Miss Bennet will have better luck.

For the first time tonight, I feel a flicker of hope.

More papers follow. Everything I need to start my new life. “I’ll set up a trail,” Angel explains. “That’ll take me a few days, though. Don’t go setting up bank accounts until then.”

“Thank you,” I choke out.

When the night air hits my face again, it feels sweeter. Lighter. I can taste it already—my freedom.

The closest bus station is only ten minutes away. I decide to walk there, not test my luck on public transport. By now, Petyr will have realized I’m gone.

The thought fills me with an ache I don’t want to name.

After what feels like years, the bus station finally looms ahead. Lights buzz; people drift in and out with luggage and backpacks. I no longer look out of place like this, with my big duffel and tired eyes.

I find the counter. “One ticket, please. First bus out.”

The clerk barely glances at me. Just taps a few keys, prints the stub, and slides it across.

I fold the ticket into my palm. The edges dig into my skin. For the first time since this horrible night began, I feel like I’ve got something to hold on to.

While I’m waiting for the bus, I walk up to the railing. The river churns a few feet down, calm and quiet. When I’m sure no one’s looking my way, I lift my old ID to the moonlight.

“Goodbye, Sammi Banks,” I whisper, a bittersweet taste in my mouth. “Goodbye, Sima Danilo. May you both find a peace in death that you never really found in life.”

Then I toss it into the water.

66

PETYR

The drive back to the penthouse is a blur. My grip on the wheel is tight. Blood pulses hot through my hand.