“They will be watching me, Elena,” he said. “The feds, Detroit, everyone. But they won’t be watching you.”

“I know,” I said.

“Go to the West Coast,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Take what is left in the personal accounts. It is clean.”

My heart hammered against my ribs, surprised by his sudden surrender.

“You knew,” I said.

“I knew you wanted to leave,” he said. “I didn’t know you would go this far to make it happen.”

He took two steps toward me, his boots clicking softly on the floor.

He reached out, his hand hovering over my stomach for a brief second before he dropped it back to his side.

“Keep him safe,” Marcus said.

“I will,” I said.

The silence between us stretched, thick and heavy with all the things we could no longer say to each other.

I turned toward the door, my coat heavy on my shoulders, ready to leave this house and this city forever.

As my fingers touched the brass handle of the office door, Marcus’s private phone on the desk began to buzz.