Monday Morning | Safehouse

The first light of dawn slipped through the cracked window, filtering over the wooden floorboards and casting long, pale shadows that stretched toward Violet. She hadn’t slept. Her hair was still damp from the rain, her clothes clinging to her like remnants of the storm they’d just escaped.

Bryan had fallen asleep on the couch beside the door, his arm draped over his chest, gun still within reach. Even in rest, his face carried the tension of the night before jaw clenched, brow furrowed, the ghost of old memories still burning behind closed eyes.

Violet watched him for a moment, her chest tight with something she...