Condemned

30 | Jael

"Less is more."

Those were Blaise's exact words. I'm not sure what we came up with would qualify as a "plan," but it's what I have to work with, and Blaise, Shilo, Faolan—we all agreed.

I'm in charge of my own destiny, and the less anyone else knows, the better.

In most ways, it makes sense. They'll stick to the simplest story—they think I'm dead. If Ishmael's looking for a more detailed account, they won't have one. They'll blame the dark and the trickery of a vampire.

If I get caught, I'll deny their involvement. The secret won't save me, so there's no reason to share it.

The problem is, I have less than twenty-four hours to figure out the rest of my life. I don't even know what the "big secret" is yet. I've never been a planner. Day to day, week to week, for every month of my whole life, the challenges were blocking my view of what could be if things ever quieted down. They never did, though. Support and resources were spread too thin for the problems at hand. As of today, that hasn't changed. And I fear it never will.

I may know what I want for the first time ever, but Sam may not want me. And no pressure, or anything, and it was said in jest, despite being so essential that it's not funny, and may even take all of the fun out of it. . .

I'm supposed to have sex with her as soon as possible. "Or find someone else to do it for you"—a "suggestion" that was immediately shot down with a growl.

If we're ever reacquired, this won't necessarily save her—even if she's no further use to them. Still, almost any death would be preferable to what's currently in store for her. We wouldn't die on our own terms, but at least it wouldn't be fully theirs.

I'll do whatever I can to win her over, but I can't promise good results. Even if Sam could forgive me for my part in this scheme and is agreeable to a one-time thing, it's not the right environment for anything more, and she'd be stuck with me for a while. Resentment may build...

We'll be traveling constantly and living like animals, something I can handle because I've done it before. Sam isn't like me, though. She doesn't have the same instincts. She'll need outdoor training, and mid-November isn't exactly the ideal time to learn. The lingering summer weather is now gone, especially at night, and the darkness is something we'll be forced to make the most of.

Blaise gave me five hundred dollars in cash, all she had on hand and could spare with Ishmael overseeing her finances. I'm truly grateful, but it won't get us very far. Sam may not even have shoes or a coat.

Even if love prevails and we manage to evade everyone—and I'm being highly optimistic on both counts—where would we go? What would we do? How would I keep her happy in the middle of nowhere? Or protect her from everything we'd bring upon ourselves once Ivy, Ishmael, and Prue are officially our enemies? Honestly, I was jolting at every sudden movement when they had my back. There are worse things out there, and some of them want me dead, too. Others would gladly kill anyone who crosses into their territory. Who we are, or what we are, wouldn't matter.

This is all assuming she's healthy and wants to leave, but if I take a moment to consider what she's been through, I'm concerned, let's just say.

Once again, I'm wasting time, looking too far ahead, considering every possible scenario beyond the frame of my current window.

It's just past noon on the day that'll set everything into motion. Every minute is important, and Sam is not even out of the house yet. The details are hers to decide. Or they'll be decided for us, by circumstances beyond our control...