UNTAMED DESIRES
“Amina. Pick it up.”
I scramble forward, snatch the envelope. Inside: two passports, cash, flight manifests, one has my name, my photo, my real birthday, she planned this, she was taking me with her or at least giving me the option.
Scar laughs low, ugly. “You think running fixes anything?”
Mara presses the barrel harder. “It fixes enough.”
She backs away, keeping the gun trained, nods at me.
“Car. Go.”
I don’t argue. I run.
Down the stairs, through the garage, into the driver’s seat, engine roaring before she even reaches the door.
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