Aliya’s POV

I pulled over in front of the address Wellington had given me. 

“Can’t believe I’m really doing this,” I muttered, grabbing my dark shades and slipping them on before stepping out of the car. 

The sun grazed my skin and my heels clicked against the pavement as I stopped before door 13. The door number was written on the paper I had been given earlier.

I knocked once, then twice, waiting patiently but received no reply. 

“Hello?” I called out, tapping a third time. “Nala, it’s me, Aliya.” 

After spending a minute or two standing there for someone who likely didn’t want to see me, I turned on...