Jace
We woke up the next morning with a plan. We needed three things. Clothes. Food. And the papers. Everything else could wait. Calla stuffed her phone into her purse while I checked the windows downstairs. The warehouse was quiet. Too quiet. Riggs had given us the green light to leave, but he'd also given us one hell of a warning. Don't go home. That was the plan. We weren't going home. Not yet.
Calla came down the stairs wearing yesterday's jeans and a borrowed Reapers T-shirt she'd tied at the waist. She looked exhausted. But determined. "You sure you're good to drive?"
She grabbed her keys. "I'm fine."
"Calla."
She looked at me. "I'm angry. That's different. I'm angry enough to be fine."
I almost smiled. "Fair."
She opened the driver's door of Bubblegum. I climbed into the pass
