Daria's POV.

 

I called her name again, and then once more. My voice wavered on the second syllable, rising into a pitch that felt foreign to me. But Harriet didn’t respond.

 

Something was off. I could sense it in the way the room had fallen silent; even the candle flames seemed to lean in, holding their breath. But I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. That was the hardest part the uncertainty of what I was up against. I had spent my entire life reading danger like others read the weather, and now I found myself caught in a storm I couldn’t even see.

 

I adjusted her in my...