Page 137 of Runaways

"Tate…" I say cautiously.

He sighs, rolling his eyes. "What? Can it wait for a commercial?"

I remember when we were on television. On every news station in every shitty motel. We didn't pay unless we had to; we mostly broke in or swiped key cards from cleaning carts, and no one noticed. They'd put our pictures up and call us psychopaths. They never talked about Mia or what happened to her, and if she was mentioned, it was only briefly and inconsequential, because you can't speak ill of the slaughtered, and so the people we slaughtered became saints.

We got to be psychopaths. It never bothered Tate, but it bothered me. I can't quite put my finger on why—it's just a word, after all, a spectrum of human behavior even. But it did, and I don't think I've ever googled a word as much as I did that one. I don'tfeellike a psychopath. I feel empathy. I know I love Tate. I love Noah, and I love my mom.

But she used the word once, too. When I broke that kid's arm in high school, she asked,"Are you a psychopath?"

And not out of anger, it was a genuine question thatgenuinelyshook me to my core. So, I don't know. Maybe that's why I hate it so much. Because I thought I was a good son, and so she should know that I wasn't and that I loved her.

There was a lot of talk about Tate's eyes, too. They said he had dead eyes, but it was just that damn picture they chose. Nothing has ever looked more alive to me than Tate's hazel eyes. They're like the forest we grew up in—shades of dark green and deep browns and definitely alive.

They look dead right now.

"You have to apologize to her."

"Why? I didn't do anything; I just told her the truth."

"But it's not the fucking truth!"

"Why do you think I brought you here, Silas? You're the smartest person I know, so surely, you didn't think we were just here for money and guns that we could have gotten somewhere else."

"No, I didn't. I thought we were here because you missed Noah. Because we both missed her, and we're supposed to be together." I sit at the foot of the bed, and again, he just looks annoyed because I'm blocking his view of the television. "Because she's our phantom limb, and we can't live without her when we can still feel her.Yousaid that."

"I said it was hard when I don't know where she is or what she's doing, but that won't be true for long."

"You said you weren't going to kill her."

"I'm not going to kill her," he says. "She's going to prison for the rest of her life."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugs. "Well, it won't be long before they find out that missing finger didn't come from a packing facility and that it belongs to a missing hiker instead. After that, they'll find his blood in her locker, in her apartment and on some of her clothing.They'll find the rest of the arm in the dumpster behind the café. And then, they'll find out who she really is, and that will seal the deal. I won't have to worry about Noah anymore. I won't have to worry about where she is or what she's doing, because I'llalwaysknow where she is."

I sit there, dumbfounded. He's kidding, right? The finger and the other things—they were just tests to see if she was still loyal and if she was still our same lost girl, and shepassed. So why is he doing this?

"You can't," I say, jumping up. I pace in front of the bed, my hands on either side of my head. "You're fucking with me, right? You can't do this."

"It's already done," Tate says. "I mean, unless the police here are complete fuck ups. I couldn't take it back if I wanted to."

"But I got her a passport. I—"

I did it a while ago. I planned this life for the three of us in my head, just in case. And it was a good one—one that was peaceful, purposeful, and worth waking up and living.

It was fate.

"Well, I didn't ask you to do that. Actually, I think it's a little fucked up."

"You thinkthat'sa little fucked up?"

Tate scoffs. "Don't do that. Don't act like you're not a fucking murderer, Silas. Don't act like you haven't always known who I am, either."

"I promised her we wouldn't leave her. I told her she wouldn't have to be alone anymore."

"Yeah, well, you should have fucking checked with me first."

"You love her! I saw you with her all week."

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