42
Roger
The sharp wind bites at my face as I lead Molly to a secluded spot on the ship's deck, away from the prying eyes and ears of other passengers. The darkness is only broken by the moonlight reflecting off the churning waves below us. We’re on the deck where the shooting took place, and even though the crimson stains remain, in the dark you’d never know such an atrocity happened. It looks, mostly, like it did before.
“This is good,” she says, stopping in her tracks. I can tell she doesn’t want to go any further, and neither do I. It’s eerie being here. “You think?”
"Should be," I reply, checking our surroundings for any eavesdroppers. “What's up?”
Molly bites her lip, her gaze furtively darting away from mine. I had assumed she’d asked me here to discuss the plan, but it’s clear
