Break

It's been weeks. It's been weeks since Adrian Ivashkov took her away, harbored her in various motels, ribboning the winding highways with her in the passenger seat of his ostentatious, sunshine yellow vintage Mustang.

Sydney still constantly looks back. She looks behind her, over her shoulder, as if to check. Even in the safety of their hotel room. To make sure no one is watching.

Sometimes, her eyes find Adrian.

"They're not coming for you," he always says, his voice gentle, his eyes concerned.

She doesn't believe him. She never answers with words, but he can read her silent, unvoiced replies in her eyes.

He tries to reassure her. "They're probably working on erasing you from the system right now, making sure no one else knows about you."

But she knows. She knows it's not enough to erase her from the system. As long as she is out there, she is tainted. She is corruption. She will need to be taken care of, permanently.

And the alchemists were always so neat and tidy. So fond of a clean break.

"I won't let them get you," he whispers one night, cradling her head in his arms, her golden eyes passive. He kisses her face, as if to reassure her. "I won't."

She speaks, for the first time in two weeks. Like a little child, she lifts her head up and looks up at him, her eyes round and wide and childlike. She touches the tip of his nose with her index finger. "But they might get you."