AUTHOR’S POV

Night deepened. Tessa crept to the window and peered through the bars. She remembered the night Aunt Norah told her to run and she refused.

A thousand and one voices told her to slap herself across the face several times for being such a disobedient twart, but she stopped herself.

Empty street—too quiet. She returned to the pockets—what little cash remained, maps with hastily scrawled routes. She traced a path in her mind: a hidden exit through an alley, a network of safehouses George had arranged with allies during their plan that time. How did she not think of it all this while?

She reached for her bag—wanted...