Elijah didn’t waste time after that promise. His grip on my wrist was steady but gentle as he guided me toward the bedroom. Marga clung to my shoulder, small arms looped around my neck, her breath warm but shaky against my skin. She didn’t speak—only watched Elijah with wide, uncertain eyes as if sensing the tension rolling off him in waves.

“Grab only essentials,” he said, voice low, controlled. He opened my closet himself, scanning the contents as though something inside could hurt ...