The air in the living room felt suffocating.

Zoey stood frozen at the entrance, her fingers still gripping the edge of her bag. Daniel sat on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, his posture calm—too calm.

That calmness terrified her more than anger ever could.

“Zoey,” he repeated, his voice smooth, controlled. “Where were you?”

Her heart pounded violently against her chest. She could feel it in her throat, in her ears, in every inch of her body.

Think.

Think fast.

“I… I went out to get some things,” she said, forcing her voice to remain steady.

Daniel tilted his head slightly, studying her like a puzzle he...