The lock clicked. The door creaked open. Phillip stood there, breathing hard, his shirt dusty. Faye’s heart pounded. He came. He actually came.

"You’re... here," I whispered, my voice shaking.

Phillip didn’t smile. His eyes darted around the dark room—the broken chair, the cracked window, the dusty floor. The room Josey had locked me in.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

I shook my head slowly.

Without a word, Phillip stepped forward and held out his hand. I didn’t think twice. I took it. His grip was warm and strong. It made me feel safe.

He led me out of the room, down the hallway, past Josey's perfect garden. The roses...