POV: Ava
The zipper on the bag jammed and Ava yanked it so hard the whole thing fell off the bed.
She left it on the floor and crouched down, fingers working the zipper teeth apart, trying to free the scrap of fabric caught in the mechanism. Her hands were shaking. Not from fear exactly. From the particular kind of tension that built up when you were trying to move fast and your body kept getting in the way of itself.
She freed the zipper. Repacked the fallen items. Stood up.
Leo was in the other room, on the phone with Rourke, his voice low and clipped and continuous. She could hear the rhythm of it without making out the words, that steady measured cadence that meant he was working through something complicated and doing it quickly.
