Page 123 of Constant

We pulled out our phones and simultaneously tossedthem out the windows on either side of the car. And that was it. The end of ourlives in DC. The end of our employment with theVolkovbrotherhood.

The end of everything.

“Do you hate him for taking your trophies?” Frankieasked later as we drove somewhere in Missouri.

“No,” I answered her honestly. “He made it easy toleave.”

She nodded. That made sense to her. It just wasn’ttrue. It didn’t make it easier to leave him. It would never be easier to leavehim.

I wasn’t leaving because I wanted to. I left because Ihad to.

And someday I hoped he understood that.

Because if Sayer ever found me, there would be hell topay for a plethora of sins.

The worst of which, he didn’t even know about yet.