The silence had weight.

It pressed against my ears, thick enough that I could hear my own pulse, the faint tick of the clock on the wall, the slow stretch of my own breathing. I stayed at the window, my eyes locked on the motionless car outside.

The street was too quiet.

Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked once, sharp, before cutting off like it had been yanked back inside. My mind spun back to Freya’s face—the shock of seeing her, the bruised curve of her cheekbone, the way ...