I've been on the run for almost three years now. Tobias probably thinks I'm dead, but really, I'm healthy as a horse. I miss him so much, from the smell of his jacket to the tattoos on his back. I grit my teeth as a tear rolls down my cheek. I was supposedly cremated, but it was really a dummy of me. Only one person other than me knows I'm alive: Amar, and even just one person knowing is extremely dangerous. I heard my friends talking at my funeral, and some other people, and I heard Nita and the guards (who were required to attend) saying that they have wanted me dead since I escaped from the captivity of Erudite, and that she knew all along I would want to die for Caleb. Now I'm in some place called Austin, Texas, which is extremely hot and dry, and nobody really knows me. I had to drive from Chicago to Springfield, and fly from Springfield to Austin, and I just got here a couple hours ago. For the first few days I have stayed in a hotel, but now I'm searching for a house in the more discreet part of Texas, where most likely, nobody knows me. As I ramble down the road in a beat up old truck, I spot it. A house for sale. Before I left, I stole about $900,000 for groceries and a house, and this house is $550,000, and it is gorgeous. It has two bedrooms, one and a half bathrooms, and is around two thousand square feet. I take a flyer and drive home. ***** I slam the door and punch the number on the flyer into something called a cell phone that I just bought a few days ago upon my arrival in Austin. I lay the card over the scanner to get into my hotel room and the door clicks open as the owner of the house, Jonah, answers the phone. "Jonah. Who is this?" He says. His voice is metallic and scratchy over the staticky sound of the receiver. "Beatrice Prior, calling about the house for sale," I reply quickly. The static gives me a headache, so I want to get this conversation over quickly. "Yes, yes. I have one other person who wants to buy the house, so if you can offer $600,000, the deal can be up." My eyes brighten at the deal. "Of course. How quickly can I move in?" His response is almost immediate. Clearly he intends to get rid of the house as soon as possible. "As soon as you can get your things over, it is ready." I thank him and hang up. That was a stroke of luck. I begin to pack up my luggage and roll it to the elevator. And elderly man stands by the buttons. "What floor?" He asks softly. "Lobby please," the elevator zooms down six floors to the lobby which is coated in marble. I check out and hop in the clunky red Chevy. *****