8 Chapter 8

Dylan poured a cup of coffee, then asked if there was anything he could do to help. Mars waved him off, saying he had it under control.

“Is Alastair still sleeping?”

“Nope. He’s been up for hours. Right now he’s down in the basement, finding out where things stand with you.”

“He’s still on the wanted list,” Alastair said, coming into the kitchen area from a doorway Dylan hadn’t realized existed. Unsurprising, since it was a panel which slid open at the far side of the fridge. To anyone who didn’t know it was there, it looked like a short section of wall between the kitchen and the rest of the room.

Dylan rubbed his temples. “And I probably will be for the rest of my life, if they don’t find me first.”

“I’m afraid so. There’s no statute of limitations on murder,” Alastair agreed. “So we’re going to have to see what we can do to change your appearance, for starters.”

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