A pause.
“Your mother?”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“Understood.”
I don’t bother packing.
I don’t call ahead.
I get on the first plane to the United States.
Because if my mother’s people reach Laney first…
I won’t be cleaning up a problem.
I’ll be burying bodies.
And for the first time in a very long time…
I’m not afraid of what I’ll do when I get there.
3
Saint
Iwake up because something is wrong.
Not a sound.
Not movement.
A shift.
The kind you feel deep in your bones when the world tilts half a degree and danger slips into the room.
My eyes open in the dark.
My hand is already reaching for the gun on the nightstand.
Then I hear it.
A soft click.
Metal.
Not the building settling.
Not pipes.
A lock.
Adrenaline slams through me.
I’m out of bed and moving before the second sound comes.
