On the ferry ride, hardly two words were spoken. Prudence kept looking back at the casino, as if she expected an enormous hand to reach across the expanse of water, pluck her off the deck, and carry her back to the Chairman. As they disembarked in San Francisco and left the wharf, Prudence kept shooting fretful glances over her shoulder.
“You seem worried,” Malibu said. “You really think the Chairman wants to kill you?”
“I know he does. Once you’re impure, you’re no longer of use to him.”
“What if you’re not impure, you can still live?”
“That’s only happened once, at least as far as I know.” She cast another glance backward. “I’m sorry I ghosted you.”
“It hurt me,” Malibu admitted.
“I know. It uncorked something in me and I felt that us getting together would lead to something bad.”
