☆

THE TINY LIGHTS BLINK back at her from the dashboard. 22:58.

Okay.

Beside her, Cadillac exhales shakily, and then casts her a hesitant look. Shadows frame his jawline, traipsing across his face to barely conceal a frown. "Dime. What is going on?"

"I don't know," she admits, her gaze falling to the small burner phone. They'd kept it, and honestly, it might help pull this together in the most beautifully vengeful way. It might make it burn even worse.

Fuck. Maybe she is a spiteful bitch.

A weak smile curls at her lips as she toys with it absentmindedly, riding out each bump and crack with an unnerving patience. Because she's waiting for him to call, and that tiny part of her, that cold, cruel part of her that drew her to Blue, knows that he won't. No. Blue is a smarter than that.

"I don't know if he'll know where we are."

Another sharp intake of breath. Cadillac spares her a skeptical look before huffing quietly. "Well, did anyone else know about this plan? Or are you just making it up on the spot?"

There's something buried beneath the faint frustration, a sliver of disbelief and awe tangled into unmistakeable respect, and it makes her dizzy. Cadillac is still... with her.

If nothing else goes smoothly, at least she has that.

"Why?" A teasing smile flirts at her lips. "Wouldn't it be nice, Ramón? Just me and you?"

For a moment, it's only them—a fragile fantasy of running, escaping with millions of crystals and nothing, no one, else. Time seems to slow, and it leaves her breathless, waiting, waiting, waiting for his response.

Would he?

His foot eases off the gas, and as they drift through another intersection smoothly, Cadillac swivels to stare at her in the haze of diluted moonlight. "Is that... is that your new plan?"

Her heart skips. "What if it was? What if we could do it?"

They could.

"Would you..." she fumbles in the silence. When did she start caring about what he thought of her? When did this become such a fucking mess? "Would you think I was a heartless bitch if I left everyone behind?"

"You and me and 3 million crystals," he muses, mulling over the thought, the fantasy, with a wistful edge in his voice. "No sé. Are we on an island?"

Too many images flash beneath her eyelids, a flood of orange and red sunsets, salt and sand in their hair, sultry air kissing bare skin. Warmth floods through her cheeks. "We could go anywhere, Ramón."

"Well, first, before I start imagining sex on a beach," he snickers, steering his gaze back to the road, "do you have a way to get this fucking star out of the city?"

"Yeah." Más o menos. Maybe. "I do."

"I think... maybe... I should know." One harsh step on the gas sends them soaring through another intersection on 10th. Close. "How far north am I going?"

Her nails dig into the phone. There is no going back. This is Plan C. This is it. "57th. Take a left on 57th."

"Left." Understanding dawns on him. Cadillac shakes his head, cursing under his breath. "The fucking Piers."

No one gave Cadillac enough credit.

"Pier 99," she says with a sheepish smile. "NYC Sanitation."

"Fuck. Seriously?"

Razor-sharp, her gaze zeroes in on the blinking numbers again. 23:02.

A bolt of urgency spikes her blood, and she straightens, shooting him a stern look. "I've been watching. The 11PM shift will be over. For about a half hour, there's only three people operating the entire facility."

That blanket of darkness shrouds them into the depths of the city, and it's only a matter of time before the lights come back on... or they hit an area that never went dark. "So... you want to..."

"We're going to take a boat," she clips out, and something in her chest tightens at how crazy it sounds. Fuck. They stole a crane, they stole a star. They could steal a boat. "We're going to break the fucking star into a garbage barge... and then we're going to ferry it out of the city, disguised as waste."

"Jesus Christ," Cadillac hisses. "That's... that's fucking brilliant."

It is. It's better than their original plan. Victory surges through her. "Yeah. It's our fucking getaway plan, babe."

"You've really thought about this. You... this was always a plan."

Fuck. Guilt clogs her throat. Yeah, it was always a plan, and Cadillac had no fucking idea. There were too many plans. "Yeah. I mapped it out. If we take a left on 57th, ride it all the way to 12th, and then take a right, that should bring us right there."

They veer to the left, take the turn too sharp, and when they rocket down to 12th Ave, a silence simmers between them. Her bottom lip sneaks between her teeth. This is brilliant. So why is Cadillac so quiet now?

"This will work," she finally says, reaching over to squeeze his arm. "We've got this."

When he gives her a sideways smile, the motion says everything. She can trust him, and she... always could. Okay. They're still in this. "I knew I wanted to be on your fucking side."

Because there were always sides. "Yeah."

Another sharp turn, a right, a rocky descent to the dimly lit facility just at the edge of the West Side Highway. They jerk, skidding into the intersection, up over a curb, ricocheting through the reflective cones that guard the facility. A crystallized glimmer of light blinds her for a moment, faint and flashing across a Jersey skyline to illuminate the night sky.

"Fuck." Cadillac slams on the brake, and she jolts to the side, craning to watch in terror as the star sways high above them. "There's a fence. There's a fucking fence."

"I'll... I'll go o—"

"Wait," he hisses, clutching at her arm fiercely. "Look, there's..."

Her throat runs dry.

A silhouetted figure crosses in front of them, cutting through the headlights without stopping, and suddenly, she can't breathe. Because she can tell; she fucking knows.

It's him.

One step ahead, unlocking the fence, swinging it open, and raising an arm, beckoning them inside, ordering them. Cadillac peers at her cautiously, waiting for something, for her to say it's okay.

"Yeah," she says. "Go."

"And when those blue snowflakes start fallin'," Blue Christmas vibrates the phone in her palm. "That's when those blue memories start callin'."

Her teeth grind together. Fuck him.

When they roll to a stop at the edge of the pier, half concealed by the barge, crystals still faintly fluttering in the moonlight, there's nothing but silence.

In one swift move, she flings her door open, jumps down, and throws the phone to the ground. It shatters. "I knew it."

"Oh, come on, baby," he mutters, glancing at her with indifference. "You couldn't play me."

"Fuck you."

"You don't think I had tracking devices in every single one of those phones." A mask of mock hurt captures his expression. "I'm disappointed."

"Actually, I did. I wanted you here."

"Me? How cute?" Flatly, he meets her gaze. "I know. You went dark."

A sweet smile tugs at her lips. "Sorry I missed your call."

"Mmm. I didn't give you enough credit, Star." He shakes his head with a dry laugh. "I really didn't."

"Most people don't."

"Star," he says her fake name so fucking softly, cocking his head to the side. "What was your grand plan here? Were you going to elope with him? What do you need this for?"

"I don't need anything," she echoes the words from three weeks ago, a cool smirk twitching at her lips. "I want it."

☆

**IT'S A BRILLIANT PLAN. FIGHT ME. 😂