Beatrice.
Gerald's voice still echoed in my head: "Eliminate any resistance."
I had three hours before tonight's meeting. Three hours to warn Nathaniel before we both died.
My hands shook as I waited for Gerald's shower to start. The pipes groaned. Water hissed through old plumbing. Finally—the sound of the bathroom door closing.
I grabbed my purse with trembling fingers, checked for my phone, pepper spray, cash. Everything felt too loud—the zipper, my breathing, the floorboards creaking under my feet.
The front door opened silently. I'd oiled the hinges two weeks ago, planning for exactly this moment. Planning to run.
Outside, Panama City's afternoon heat hit me like a wall. The air smelled like exhaust fumes and frying plantains from the street vendor on the corner. My shirt stuck
