As quickly as she’d arrived, she was gone with her usual order of milk, eggs, and bread, leaving me with a hammering heart and Dutch’s suddenly sharp gaze.
“You know something about this fella?” he asked. Straight to the point, as usual.
I shook my head, forcing my features into what I hoped was neutral curiosity. “Just concerned. For the town.”
Dutch grunted again, unconvinced.
It wasn’t Trent. It couldn’t be. If Trent were checking up on us, he wouldn’t stay at the motel. He would have come straight to me.
Wouldn’t he?
I turned back to the shelves, reorganizing cans that were already perfectly aligned. My fingers trembled slightly, and I curled them into fists. Not Trent. And hopefully not someone sent by Langston either. Just a stranger passing through our forgettable little town.
But as I worked, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, like a shadow falling across a sunny room. After months of quiet, the world beyond Garnett was reaching for us again.
And I wasn’t ready.
CHAPTER 2
EVELYN
Dutch letme go ten minutes early, grumbling that I might as well leave since the inventory was done. It was his version of kindness.
So, for once, I was actually on time to pick my girl up.
The school was a one-story brick building with two wings—one for high school and one for elementary, with the principal’s office, gym, and cafeteria at the center. I hurried past the main entrance to the side door at the far end of the elementary wing, smiling down at the chalk drawings on the sidewalk of wobbly houses and stick-figure families.
Normal kids with normal lives.
I wondered if Sophia drew our family, just the two of us, always looking over our shoulders. Or maybe she included Trent in those portraits. She asked about him just about every night in the quiet moments before bed.
“When is Vigi coming back?” she’d whisper, using the nickname she’d given him during our time at Hope’s Embrace.
He’d gone by Vigil back then, which I’ve since learned was also his call sign with his black ops team. I had been Clarity,and Sophia was Promise. For two years, we’d almost been like a family. We’d had a community where people genuinely cared for one another.
By the time I realized that “community” was actually a cult, it was too late. We were trapped.
Trent had been undercover the whole time, tracking stolen tech. He’d extracted us on the night of the cult’s planned “ascension”—their euphemism for suicide—then dumped us in this forgotten corner of Montana with new identities, and made me memorize a phone number.
“Only for emergencies,” he’d said. “If you call, I’ll come. No matter what.”
I hadn’t called.
Not when I’d woken gasping from nightmares, not when I thought I’d seen Langston at the bar and grill in town, not when Sophia had cried for “Vigi” night after night.
Because what if I called and he didn’t come?
I didn’t think my heart could handle that.
Six months since we’d seen him. Six months of silence.
When was he coming back?
I never had an answer for that question.
The classroom door was propped open with a box of printer paper. Inside, kindergarteners and first-graders were shoving papers into backpacks, and parents were signing their children out. Toys and books and crayons scattered the floor, and someone’s abandoned lunch box oozed what looked like grape jelly onto a reading mat.
Beth stood in the center of it all, her hair now completely free from its morning ponytail, a streak of blue marker across her cheek. She was helping a little boy zip his jacket, all while fielding questions from a hovering parent about next week’s spelling words.
