Chapters (41)
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Contents
- Start Reading
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
Angela shakes her head, then drops back down. “The police already know about the brothel. Mathieu said some of them are patrons, and it’s only the Pollyanna cops they worry about. I need to get out of here. I can’t stay in this country one second longer. Besides, I killed Seb. I did the actual act, and the police must think I’m involved in Manu’s murder, given my history with her—just like Seb wanted. It looks like a pattern. I can’t risk it.” She comes to my side where I continue to stand in the middle of the hub.
Imagine me, reluctant to leave underground.
“Shay, I don’t know if you ever liked being a twin.” She waves off my protests. “But I think you like being a sister. Do this for me, please. Trust me, as your sister. Leaving is the best solution for you and for me. It’s time to go.” She lifts her hands, palms up. The yellow track lighting is nonexistent here, but the flashlight shows that blood stains her palms. The pair of us will never make it through the airport. Identical twins, filthy and bloody—we’ll have all eyes on us from the moment we hobble through the doors of Charles de Gaulle.
I take her hands and cringe at their slippery feel. “Angela, I love being your sister and your twin, always have. Even if I showed it in different ways. I’m sorry I failed you over the last few years, after Mom and Dad died, and the last week. But that changes now. You’re taking the plane ticket and my passport. I’ll stay behind to make sure the police know everything they need, and to tell them you did what you did in self-defense. I choose you this time, Gel.”
Angela’s face goes slack. “Sh—Shayna, no,” she stammers. “No, we’re going together. I can’t leave you.”
Maybe Nour will visit me in jail. Or Valentin will sneak me croissants. “I’ll be fine. It can’t take more than a week to sort through everything. I’ll be back home before you’re unpacked.” I dig into my messenger bag for my passport and hand it to her.
“We’re going together.” She pushes it back. “I can’t take that.”
“It’s our best shot. There’s no way we can both get out on one passport, and any kind of damage to a passport invalidates it—yours won’t work. You’ve served enough time down here.”