–Livana–
I leaned against the headboard, the weight of my head pressing down, though the cut of my hair made me feel oddly lighter, freer, as though some invisible weight had been trimmed away with each strand. The air brushed against my bare neck differently now, cool and startling.
Deanne sat beside me, her perfume faint but sharp—gardenia with a hint of spice—as she pressed the tablet into my hands. Its smooth frame was cool beneath my fingers.
"Laura had someone track this," she explained, her tone precise, every syllable clipped. "The car seemed to anticipate your route. They knew that stretch of road was without lights. And look—its paint is camouflaged to the area."
I traced the surface of the screen, though I couldn't see it clearly. My mind tried to paint it for me—dark against darker. Invisible. Too late for Damon to have noticed.
