The morning sun filtered weakly through the curtains, casting long shadows across the living room. Zoey sat at the edge of the sofa, her hands wrapped tightly around a mug of tea that had long gone cold. Sleep had been shallow, restless—each creak of the floorboards, each distant car horn, making her jump as though danger was already inside the house.

After last night’s events, she knew she could no longer trust anyone, not fully. Daniel’s keen awareness of her movements, Mr. Frank’s nervous glances, and the lingering presence of unknown figures outside her home had shaken her sense of safety. And yet, she had a mission now—one she could...