Vincent’s POV:

“Penelope!”

My voice is loud, perhaps too loud given that it’s currently 8pm, and there seems to be no sign of life from the house in front of me.

I march up to the front doors and tear them open. “Penelope! Where are you?!”

Every grim scenario that has been playing in my head for the past two hours shows up again. As much as I try to shake them off, I can’t.

The front doors are open, and I waste no time rushing inside.

“Penelo—”

“She’s safe, Vincent. Kindly lower your tone, there’s a sleeping child upstairs.”

That voice is unmistakable.

The low lights of the living...