Chapter 18

• The patched-up fishing boat, christened 'Hope' in a whispered ceremony under a sky full of stars, proved more temperamental than expected. The engine sputtered and coughed, threatening to abandon them mid-ocean, a terrifying prospect considering their precarious situation. Rowan, ever resourceful, managed to coax it into a semblance of reliability, but the journey was fraught with anxiety and near misses. They navigated treacherous currents, dodging the occasional fishing trawler, their hearts pounding in their chests with every close call. The open sea, once a symbol of freedom, quickly became a constant source of tension and fear.
• Landfall was a blessed relief, but their respite was short-lived. They chose a small, isolated town nestled deep within a coastal range, far removed from the frantic pace of city life and, hopefully, Julian’s reach. Their initial days were spent scavenging for information and supplies, moving from one dingy motel to another, always vigilant, always on the lookout. The comfort of a stable address was a luxury they couldn't afford. Their lives were a series of fleeting encounters, anonymous transactions, and hasty exits, leaving behind only a trail of fleeting memories and discarded identities.
• Their routine became a carefully choreographed dance of evasion. They used fake names, rented cars under assumed identities, and paid for everything in cash. Rowan, utilizing his skills honed in his past life as a bodyguard, became adept at blending into the background, remaining unnoticed while Cleo, still reeling from the trauma of her past, played the role of the quiet, unassuming wife. They had to be chameleons, adapting to their surroundings, constantly changing their appearances, their habits, even their accents.