She's an asset. You don't risk your life for an asset. You don't even risk your career for an asset. I know that like I know the sky is blue, like I know caterpillars turn into butterflies, like I know February comes after January.
I know that the smart move here is to grab anything that would link me to her and catch the first train out of town.
But I also know she's still in there. I know she's bound, bloodied, and bruised but she's still alive. I can see it on the security camera we hid on the roof across the street last week after dinner at her brother's place. I can hear it from the bug she sewed into the hem of her blouse last night before joining me in the shower.
She's an asset and things went bad. It's not the first time. I probably wouldn't be here now if I went back in after every asset in a jam. I know my window for escape is quickly closing as I sit here watching and listening. I know what Dan would say. I know what Sam would say.
But I know she's Fiona. I know I can't leave without her. I know I have to go back after her. I know that like I know how to walk, like I know how to blink, like I know how to breathe.
She was an asset, and now I know she's turned into so much more.