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She slow-blinks.

“This is completely normal.”

She yawns and walks away. Rude.

I study Jubilee on the horse, then compare her to the photograph of her with the cat. Same smile. She’s in there somewhere. The same mouth, the same exact shape of joy when it gets past her guard. Someone did this to her. Someone taught this girl to disappear while standing in plain sight.

I don’t know who it was yet. But I will. The promise settles into my bones.

Outside, Chicago is beginning to lighten around the edges. I should sleep. I should eat my croissant, close the laptop, and demonstrate the kind of restraint of someone professional, mature, and respectable.

I take a bite. Perfect. Some things remain reliable.

Tartlet abandons Muffin’s stolen bed and trots over, pawing at my leg. Mrrp.

“Yes,” I tell her. “She’s my problem now.”

Tartlet appears satisfied with this ruling and darts away.

I open the laptop fully again.

There’s a girl somewhere across this city counting prime numbers in the dark, wearing a bloody hoodie and giving pieces of herself only to animals who can’t betray her.

She asked whether I would follow her. I told her not yet. Apparently, yet has arrived.

I’m going to be very annoying about this. The cats will back me up. They’re extremely biased, but still.

My phone buzzes. Unknown number. I swipe.

It’s not nice to spy on people you just buried a dead body with.

I stop breathing.

Cannoli keeps purring against my neck, entirely unconcerned that the universe has apparently rewarded my questionable decisions.

Another message appears. Awesome channel, by the way.

I stare at the screen. Then I laugh. Not a chuckle. A full, helpless laugh that makes Cannoli lift her head in offense.

She found me. More importantly, she knew I found her.

Jubilee York fucking hunted me back. A bright, reckless heat floods my veins, the most alive I’ve felt in years.

I type one-handed. How did you get this number?

The little bubbles appear almost immediately. Disappear. Appear again. That seems like a very personal question.

Jesus Christ. I lean back in my chair, grinning at my phone like an absolute idiot.

Across the kitchen, Marzipan watches me like an exhausted woman who has seen enough.

“You’re right.” She blinks. “I’m completely fucked.”

CHAPTER 5

Jubilee

My phone has seventeen notifications when I wake up. That’s…excessive.