She wants to sneer. She wants to bare her teeth and turn this conversation into a knife fight, the way a friend once told her every conversation with her ends. That friend is dead now, and the wave of grief is what holds her tongue.

"Maybe." It's hard to imagine a world where she could hide from the person who wants to hurt her most. "But if it worked, if you did stop him from finding me, then who do you think he'd hurt instead? I can take it."