Chapter 57

Aurora POV

When my phone goes off and a familiar number flashes across the screen, I hesitate to answer it.

Camilla.

I stare at it for a second too long, thumb hovering over the screen like if I don’t touch it, maybe it’ll all just go away. But it doesn’t. Unfortunately, That isn’t the kind of person my step-sister is. She’s poison in the bloodstream, a slow killer unless you somehow manage to find an antidote.

Blowing out a breath, I steel myself before I finally answer.

“Took you long enough,” she says, sounding annoyed. “I got it all together. Cash. Fake passports. IDs. Burner phones. Flights. Everything you and your little friend need to disappear.”

My mouth goes dry.

She keeps talking. “I even booked a route through Lisbon so it’ll be harder to trace. You’ll have a layover in Dubai, but that’ll just give you time to change appearances if you need to. I suggest getting plastic surgery the moment you land. Not only will it help you disguise yourself, it will finally fix that face of yours.”

I nearly roll my eyes. Leave it to Camilla to throw in an insult amongst the itinerary discussion. Though, at this point, maybe I can chalk it up to this being her love language. Insults used in place of sending me her well wishes. Ridiculous, probably, but lately I've been in the business of humanizing monsters.

I sit down slowly on the edge of the bed, a slow rush of guilt working its way through me.

I don’t know how to tell her that I’m pretty sure I’m not running anymore.

Something shifted the moment when Dominic said I looked beautiful in that dress. I’d begun to picture a future with him, a real one and not that kind that I’ve dreaded for weeks now, the moment I heard his soft laugh.

Camilla sounds so proud of herself for all of the work she’s done to get me and Gianna those tickets out of here. Almost an entire week and a half spent getting documents to free me from these chains of obligation and have Dominic all to herself.

I know for a fact if I tell her the truth now, she’ll have a meltdown. Or worse.

So to keep the peace, I say, “Thanks. I’ll come grab everything from you in a bit.”

“Don’t take too long,” she warns. “If you want to make that flight, you’ve got about six hours before boarding closes. I even packed you snacks. God, I’m amazing, aren’t I?”

I hang up before I can say something stupid. There’s no point in trying to reason with Camilla even on a good day. When it comes to Dominic, forget it. I might as well be talking to a damn brick wall.

Or a yapping dog.

It would be so much easier if Camilla wasn’t currently kind of being nice to me instead of her usually awful self. Because damn it… she’s right. She is amazing. In a terrifying, Machiavellian sort of way.

I take a few deep breaths then grab my jacket and leave my room.

The twins are in the motel room next door, sprawled on the couch with matching expressions of mild boredom and a bag of chips between them. Both of them have a video game controller in their hands while some animated games plays on the screen.

“Look who it is! Risen from the dead.” Luca says.

“Are you in the mood for another shopping trip?” Marco asks, then grins. “I can convince Dominic to let us use his black card again.”

“Neither,” I say. “But I do need a ride.”

They look at each other.

“Where?” they ask in unison, already suspicious.

“To my family’s estate,” I reply carefully. “I just need to grab a few more things.”

They both groan.

“Absolutely not,” Nico says immediately. “I am in no mood to listen to Dominic’s bitching I had enough of that the first time it happened.”

“I won’t say anything,” I tell them, holding up my hands. “I swear. Just take me there real quick. I’ll be in and out. I promise.”

They hesitate. But I can see the way their expressions shift just slightly that tells me I’ve already won them over. I guess it helps that they’ve both grown fond of me since Dominic brought them here to watch Gianna and I.

Eventually, Luca sighs and stands. “When he puts a gun to my head and asks me for my last words, they will be spent blaming you.”

“That’s fine,” I say, heading for the door. “I’ll make sure to pay tribute every year to your graves on the anniversary.”

They both laugh in return.

Luca ends up taking me while Marco remains at the safehouse to keep watch over Gianna. The ride to the estate is quiet, save for the soft hum of the radio playing while we drive on some station that plays a few songs I vaguely recognize.

When we pull up the long driveway and finally in front of the house, I turn to him. “Wait here. I’ll be ten minutes max.”

“Stay out of trouble,” he tells me as I climb out of the backseat.

I slip through the front doors quickly, hugging the walls like a shadow as I head up to the second floor. The house is eerily quiet for some reason. No staff or each of Beatrice's heels clicking down the halls.

How weird. Where is everyone?

I make it up to my room without being spotted, quickly slipping through the crack in the doorframe before pushing it closed behind me. Camilla is already inside, sitting on my bed like she owns the place, a black backpack in her lap.

She stands when she sees me, lifting it like a prize.

“Voilà,” she states proudly. “One fully stocked, illegal, international get-the-hell-out-of-the-country bag. Don’t ever say I didn’t do anything nice for you.”

Grabbing it from her outstretched hands, I pull it open and skim the contents: cash, documents, IDs, travel plans just like she described over the phone. Damn, she really did get everything we needed.

“Wow,” I murmur. “You’re disturbingly good at this.”

Camilla flips her hair. “I know. I’d tell you to thank me later but that won’t be necessary once you’re out of the country.”

Usually this is the point where I’d argue with her about being rude, but she’s kind of right. If I were to actually take all of this and leave, I would never be able to contact anyone from my old life again. Leaving would mean forfeiting my former connections entirely.

“I can’t believe this is all finally happening,” she gushes. “Once you’re out, I get Dominic. No more dealing with him pretending he doesn’t just for the sake of appearances. We’ll announce our engagement and be married right before summer hits. Everything’s is finally falling into place.”

My stomach lurches.

It would be cruel to tell her now that I’m actually not leaving when she’s clearly excited to enact whatever plan she’s been fantasizing since striking our deal. Better to wait or lie if I have to. Maybe once the wedding starts encroaching and it starts becoming clear I’m not going anywhere, I’ll tell her Dominic won’t let me out of his sight until the wedding. That he’s keeping me locked down because of what happened with his father.

I can spin it to make it seem like I tried to leave and he stopped me. Camilla might actually enjoy that narrative if it means I’m being locked away and getting the key tossed. She won’t be getting her happily ever after with her prince charming but at least she’ll perceive me as suffering in the process.

“Thank you,” I say softly, grabbing a few sweaters to toss inside too before zipping the bag back up. “Seriously. This must’ve taken a lot.”

She shrugs dismissively. “I’m invested in my future. And Dominic is my future. You and your little friend get a fresh start, I get to stop sharing oxygen with someone I’d happily sell to an organ harvester. Win-win.”

I offer a tight smile. “Thanks again, Camilla.”

When I leave my room, I slip the shoulder strap over one side and keep the bag tucked against me. Getting this back to the safehouse and hidden where neither the twins or eventually Dominic will find it may require me to get Gianna’s help.

Leaving this thing out in the open is only going to bring more questions than I can explain if Dominic were to find it before I can get rid of everything. God, the last thing I need is for him to think I’m skipping out on him right after we started to slowly mend our relationship.

As I reach the bottom of the stairs, a voice cuts through the quiet like a blade.

“Aurora.”

I freeze.

My father steps out from his study, dressed in a sharp gray suit with a pair of wire-framed glasses perched on his nose. He doesn’t smile when he looks me over, merely tilts his chin towards the half-open door behind him. “Come. We need to talk.”

I hesitate, my feet glued to the floor under me.

“Aurora.” His impassive expression soon turns bitter. “Now.”

Reluctantly, I follow him inside.