The next screen is static. It’s focused on me sitting in front of the desk.

Shit.

If he’s connected remotely to these cameras, he could be watching me right now.

And if he’s watching me right now, he’s probably on his way back.

“Dammit,” I curse and start pushing buttons on his keyboard, hoping to trigger a command that will fuck with the cameras.

Nothing happens. No doubt he has some super-secret sequence or password to prevent someone from messing with this crap.

I grab the mouse and whirl it around, then search the screens for a pointer. My eyes fly over the screens I’ve already observed then stop dead on the ninth screen.

It’s like some bad dream as I take in what looks to be a security check point in an airport.

The camera is focused on a man dressed in a dark suit, going through what I assume is customs. He looks annoyed, his mouth pulled down in a frown, and his gestures are short and sharp as the agent working with him glances between him and some paperwork.

I’d recognize him anywhere. It’s Ahmed’s brother, Asad.

Please don’t be Garden City, I pray as I search the screen for a sign that will identify the airport he’s in.

The agent nods his head and hands the paperwork he’s holding back to Asad.

Asad angrily rips the paperwork out of the agent’s hands then grabs his bag and walks through the lane he’s in.

The picture changes and changes, following him as he walks through the airport. I manage to catch a glimpse of one of the signs advertising Garden City and my worst fear is confirmed.

He’s close.

I knew it was only a matter of time, but I was hoping I could get away before this happened.

Now it’s too fucking late. I’m a dead woman walking.

The camera sticks to Asad as he walks out of the airport to a black car that’s parked at the curb waiting for him.

The camera moves away from him for a moment, zooming in on the license plate. The license plate is white bordered with red and above the random sequence of numbers it reads: Diplomat.

That’s right, I remember Ahmed telling me that his entire fucked up family has somehow found a way to secure diplomatic immunity in this country. He used to threaten that he could do anything to anyone in this country and there would be nothing to stop him.

I watch, my heart racing faster and faster, as the camera zooms back in on Asad. A driver takes his bag and pulls open the back door for him. Asad glances around himself and I swear he looks right at the camera before climbing into the car.

The driver closes the door and then heads to the back, placing Asad’s bag in the trunk. The driver then walks back around the car, gets in, and the car pulls away from the curb. The camera sticks to the car until it disappears into the horizon then switches back to the airport.

I push away from the desk. Does he know where I am right now? Is he on his way to Simon’s?

No. Not likely. He probably doesn’t know my exact location yet, but given time and his connections, it won’t be long before he finds me.

I have to get out of here. Fuck trying to be sneaky about it now.

I start to stand up when one of the static screens changes, drawing my attention. The screen that was focused on the guard shack in front of Matthew’s compound has zoomed in on the front gate as it opens.

Once the gate has slid completely back, a black Escalade rolls forward. The guards in the shack are waving the car on but it comes to a stop. Then the camera zooms in even more, focusing on Simon’s face.

He’s staring angrily at his phone then he looks up, directly at the camera. There’s no sound, but I can tell exactly what he’s saying as his lips move.

“I see you, Meredith.”

9

Simon

Handful. Great word for what Meredith is. Spoiled fucking rotten by her father. Lived like a princess for most of her adult life. It’s infuriating to see someone so damn unaware of her own damn self. She has no fucking control. Where I wouldn’t be caught dead acting the way she does… she acts out with an almost reckless abandonment. It’s like she relishes the trouble she causes. She’s a complete little brat. Brat, like an ill-tempered child.

Pausing at the compound guard station, I roll down my window to show my face to the guard.

“You’re expected, sir,” the guard says to me.

“Yes, I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” I snap back before moving through the gate.

I know all these safety precautions are needed given the current state of our little world, but it’s still a hassle for me. I remember the old days, before Lucifer became the man he is now. When we were smaller, less known to the outside world.

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