Watching Whitney crumple to the deck, sobbing with her whole body, made something in my chest pull tight. I moved in quietly and wrapped my arms around her from behind, holding her steady against the wind. "It's cold out here. Let's go inside. He told me your health hasn't been good you'll make yourself sick."
Her crying only got louder. Between sobs, she managed to push the words out. "Elena, why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"He had his reasons," I said gently. "And I want you to know the tracker was a lie. There's no chip. He made it up."
I remembered Vito's face the night before when he'd told me. There had been something in his eyes grief and tenderness so tangled together they'd looked almost the same. She believed every word, he'd said. I told her the chip would detonate if she wandered too far, and she just believed me. Like a frightened little rabbit. He'd almost smiled when he said it, and that almost-smile had been the saddest thing I'd seen all week.
