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Inside, wads of cash sat stacked neatly. My hand trembled as I reached in, the crisp bills whispering promises between my fingers. I shoved them into the grocery bag lying discarded by Priscilla's corpse. Each bundle felt like a brick in the foundation of a new life being laid down with my own hands.
"Looks like we're in business, babe." Chris' smirk was back.
"More than enough to disappear," I muttered. Could money scrub away the stains we'd left behind? Was Priscilla telling the truth? That the Cinder Crew would find us?
I clutched the money tight against my chest, feeling its weight as much as the gravity of what we'd done. This money belonged to the families of the girls slain to make it. I would do right by them. They deserved better than the ending they got.
"I hate this place," I whispered, the idea taking root. Our crimes were many, but so were our dreams. I turned to him, my gaze locking onto his deep blue eyes.
"Let's burn it all," he wrapped his arm around me and pulled out a lighter. "Do the honors?"
I grinned. "Gladly." Flicking it, I watched as the little flame danced before setting the wad of bloodied papers on the desk on fire. "Good riddance."
The room around us reeked of death, but in his arms, I saw the dawn of a new day, our day, where the darkness of our past would be consumed by the light we'd create, together.
"Ready?" he grunted.
"Let's go."
We moved in unison, walking further and further from the person who had tried to destroy us.
"Think they'll come after us?"
"Let 'em try." He grinned, looking down at me.
Down the grand staircase and into the foyer we went.
"Never thought I'd find someone like you," Chris murmured suddenly, squeezing my shoulder.
"Someone to drench in blood and fuck against a desk?" I teased, my lips twisting into a smirk.
"Someone to set the world ablaze with."
"Oh, Chris..." My chest tightened. "We can do anything."
"Like a couple of wild cards."
"Only thing wilder is what I want to do to you once we're out of here," I breathed.
"Promises, promises," he shot back, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
There, the main doors—the threshold to our freedom. They stood tall, imposing, the barrier between us and the unknown.
"End of the line," I whispered, casting a glance back at the chaos we were leaving behind.
"Beginning of everything," he countered, pulling me close, his body a solid wall against my back.
We reached for the handles together, metal cold and unyielding beneath our fingers. With a shared nod, we flung the doors open, stepping into the night.
"Freedom feels like power," I mused, feeling the rush of the cool night air.
"Feels like you," Chris pulled me against him, his hands roaming with need. His lips crashed on me, desperate. Wanting.
We broke apart only when the need for air became too much. Hand in hand, we walked to the sedan. Whatever lay ahead, we'd face it as one—unbreakable, unstoppable, un-fucking-conquerable.
Epilogue
Five Years Later
