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SADIE

Day Fourteen

T he prison transport van is coming to retrieve me in four hours, and—for the first time since arriving—the guards are letting me walk along the edge of the lake without surveillance.

(Well, with Dr. Weiss at my side.)

The water glimmers beneath the rising sun, and the air smells like pine and wet stone. It’s a sweet taste of Freedom.

My lawyers are saying that due to their work, we have a real shot with the appellate court now. That even if I get denied parole this month, I might still taste free air again. I juts have to be patient.

“Just give me a chance, and hold on…”

Ethan’s message echoes in my mind, carved deeper than the scars on my back.

“Are there really no cameras out here?” I ask him, casting a glance toward the trees.

“There aren’t,” he says, watching me carefully. “But I must say—you’ve played one hell of a role for them since you got here.”

“You weren’t too bad yourself.”

“Minus the temper tantrum, I’d give you a solid ten stars.”

“The medication was wearing off.”

“I know.” He slows, turning toward me. “Did I take too long to get everyone involved?”

“No,” I say softly. “But you missed two.”

“Who?”

“Guard Mountbatten,” I say. “I heard he’s been… missing.”

“He is missing.” His lips curl. “There won’t be much left of him by the time anyone thinks to go looking. Who else?”

“Robin,” I say. “Won’t she say something?”

He pauses, then smiles.

“Robin tragically passed away this morning on her way to work.”

My breath catches. “What?”

“She wasn’t feeling well after we left the Baylor estate,” he says, voice cool. “I drove her home, but something must’ve been wrong with her brakes when she got in her car this morning. Or maybe it was carbon monoxide… Hard to tell.”

“That sounds very unfortunate…” I say.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because I’ve heard that’s what a psychopath would do, and my boyfriend diagnosed me as one.”

He laughs under his breath. “You are indeed a psychopath, Sadie.”

He grabs my wrist and pulls me flush against him, lips brushing mine with slow, deliberate hunger.

“My favorite psychopath,” he murmurs.“My beloved eagle…”