Exit Strategy
The apartment was quiet. Jessie sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by scattered case files, flash drives, and folders labeled with false dates and innocuous content. The television played muted local news in the background — a report on Aaron’s "recovery" and how police were still piecing together what had happened to him. Her eyes weren’t on the screen. Levi leaned against the kitchen counter, a half-empty beer in his hand. His face still carried fading bruises, but it was his eyes that gave away the toll — heavy, watchful, and calculating. Neither of them had spoken for the last five minutes. They didn’t need to. The silence said enough: it was time to go. But carefully. Jessie was the first to speak. “Three months.” Levi looked up. “Three?” “We lay the groundwork now,” sh
- Writer
