Page 146 of Ugly Beautiful Scars

Will we get through this? A month from now, could we miraculously be in Australia, with The Director and Victor a thing of the past?

Mike will be back with his family and everything will be okay.

Please let that be the future.

"Almost there," Sean says as we approach the baggage carousel.

As we wait for our luggage, I glance at him again and the hollow beneath his cheekbones where exhaustion has carved out a home. His blue hair is loose and faded and he now has dark roots that remind me of how much time has passed since he first walked into my life.

Two months, but it feels like an eternity.

I'm still in awe of how he saved us from getting executed in my bedroom. He looked at that evil man and didn't even blink.

I guess I'm also in awe of myself.

In that bathroom, with death breathing down our necks, I chose to stand beside the man I love. No running. No hiding. Nocowering in corners. I faced the end with my chin up and my heart open.

It was the strongest I've ever felt.

And I realized: The Director didn't break me. He wounded me, scarred me, changed me, but he didn't break me.

In that moment of thinking I was really, truly about to die, I discovered that the strength I thought I'd lost had been there all along, just waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.

Sean reaches past me to grab our bags as they rumble onto the carousel. Even this simple motion is filled with a wary tension, his eyes never stopping their constant scan of our surroundings.

I try to take my luggage but he shakes his head. "I've got it," he says, lifting both suitcases with ease despite the fatigue I know is dragging on him.

I don't argue; I don't want to put any more stress on him.

We move through the terminal toward the car rental counters, and I can't stop looking at him, this man who carries so much weight on his shoulders. He's about to walk into the devil's den to fulfill a bargain with a demon, all for me.

I really don't want him to go alone, though. We got into a mild argument about that yesterday. I said I should go with himbecause we should be together like we were in that bathroom, facing the darkness side by side.

"I'm not putting you anywhere near him again," he'd said. "Not after what he did."

Sean doesn't see that he's already saved me a dozen times and that his love has healed parts of me I thought would be broken forever.

But he's stubborn, so I'll try again later to convince him.

We go through the motions of getting a rental. About twenty minutes later, we're standing in front of a sleek black sedan with tinted windows. Sean checks every inch of it before letting me inside, his hands running along the undercarriage, the wheel wells, the door handles. Then he pops the passenger-side door for me. Before he climbs in himself, he pulls his gun from his checked luggage and makes sure it's secured in his holster.

As we pull away from the airport, his hand finds mine again across the center console. The silence between us isn't strained or awkward. It's a living thing we've created, this wordless understanding that we're in this until the end.

The sun is getting ready to set as we drive south along the San Francisco Bay toward Atherton. I note how spacious it feels here compared to the endless skyscrapers of Manhattan. I glimpse the water in the distance between gaps in buildings and structures, and suddenly, I'm longing for the beach and sand between my toes.

If only this were a vacation.

We're headed to Declan and Sienna's house. Sean trusts them to keep me safe while he completes his mission. Another thing I tried to argue against.

"I don't want to burden your friends," I'd said. "They don't even know me."

"They're good people," he had replied. "And they understand what we're up against."

Another argument I lost.

The burning in my chest intensifies as we pass San Mateo. I take a sip from my water bottle, but it doesn't help. My stomach clenches, and I make an involuntary whimper.

"You okay?" Sean asks, the first words he's spoken since we got in the car.

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