Chapter 222

The last three days have settled into a rhythm I didn’t expect and definitely didn’t ask for, where half my texts with Eli are about currency exchanges and dead men’s stolen identities, and the other half are just us, talking, the way we used to before everything came apart in that warehouse.

《Chloe put superglue in my hairbrush,》 I text him somewhere around ten at night, still lying on my bed with my hair damp from the shower and considerably shorter in one section than I’d like to admit.

《I’m going to need a photo of that,》 he writes back.

《Absolutely not. My dignity has taken enough hits this week.》

A pause, and then, 《I’m sorry. That’s still on me, all of it. If I hadn’t come into your life the way I did, none of that would be happening to you right now.》

I roll my eyes at my own phone, which is a skill I’ve apparently developed recently, expressing exasperation at inanimate objects.

《Eli. We both chose to go to war with her. I threw the fi