The warehouse loomed black, hulking, wet patches of oil puddling everywhere, the sodium lamps outside flickering like they were about to die. The air reeked—briny damp, rust, smoke. Camille crouched low behind a crate, heart smashing against her ribs, her breath sharp and uneven. Her palms stuck to the wood, oil stinging her nose, choking. Ellen’s forged document burned in her mind—her name scrawled like poison. Fraud. Jail. Give up Ellie or rot. The words wouldn’t stop echoing.

Ellie was safe. With Lila. At least… she was supposed to be. But safe felt so fragile right now. Camille’s thoughts were a mess—David? Ellen? Both here? Her stomach knotted, throat dry....