The room was quiet.

Not the normal quiet that came when the house slept, when the walls settled and the floorboards sighed. This quiet felt held, compressed, as if the air itself was waiting for something to happen and refusing to exhale until it did.

Luna sat on the edge of the lower bunk, her small hands folded together so tightly her knuckles had gone pale. Her shoulders were stiff, drawn upward without her noticing.

Her feet dangled, not touching the floor, toes hovering an inch above the ...