EDEN
I stare at the photo on my phone until the screen dims and locks itself. The image is still tattooed into my retinas. The timestamp is from less than two minutes ago. Someone was close enough to watch us leave.
My thumb hovers over the delete button, but I don't press it. Instead, I shove the phone face-down into my coat pocket like that will make the picture disappear.
Hayden glances over from the driver's seat. The interior lights are off, but the glow from passing streetlamps flashes across his profile every few seconds. He's been quiet since we pulled out of the garage.
"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice low.
I keep my eyes on the road ahead. "I’m fine."
He doesn't buy it. I can feel him studying the side of my face.
"Eden."
"Nothing's wrong," I say, my voice sharper than
