I am on the land surrounding Epicurus’s property, and I am running for my life.More accurately, I am running for Grant’s life.There are pre-recorded video loops on all the surveillance cameras on the property. If Epicurus has someone watching the cameras, all they will see is a grove of orange trees and grassy fields, instead of a twenty-something chick hauling ass.Thank God I told Marcel I wanted jeans and tennis shoes. This would be a complete travesty if I were in a skirt and heels.I’m also wearing Grant’s backpack, the one we jumped out of the New York skyscraper with. Inside is my laptop, two tubes of superglue, a GPS chip, a cell phone, and Mailin’s government-issued handgun.In my hand is one of the other pistols. I don’t really know how to use it, other than point and pull the trigger, but I have it just in case.In case of what, I don’t want to consider.Dominique should be about 500 feet to my left. The McMansion abuts Epicurus’s property, and we started off at different
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