EAMON
The next morning arrives entirely too early which is impressive considering I barely slept last night.
Again.
At this point, insomnia and I should probably start filing taxes together because we've become disturbingly committed to each other.
Sunlight spills through the windows of my new room while I stand in front of the mirror adjusting the sleeves of a black long-sleeved shirt.
My duffel bag rests near the door while from the mirror, I can see several folders containing everything Hailey gave me through Aurora sitting on my bed.
Aurelia Blackwood.
Damien Ashborne.
Seventeen and nineteen.
Runaway idiots.
The more I read their files last night, the more convinced I became that neither of them planned anything beyond "Let's leave."
Based on the email Uncle Caius forwarded
