Now here we are, in Mercy’s town car, each of us staring out of the window on our respective sides of the back seat. Except. I’m carefully watching her from the corner of my eye, my thumb cradled under my chin and index finger resting near my temple. It’s like being confined in a tight space with a deadly predator. Even if I’m just as much a predator as she is, it doesn’t remove the vague but uneasy feeling pulsing inside my chest when I look at her.
