She locked the door without blinking. No dramatic pause or slow reach for the handle. Just the smooth, quiet sound of a bolt sliding into place.

I stood slowly, a plastic water cup forgotten on the windowsill. 

“That’s not how friendly conversations start.”

The woman didn’t smile. She looked calm and clean, like someone who didn't have to run through woods or crawl through blood.

“You’re Wren Blevine.” 

Her voice was smooth. 

Mira stirred ...