Zoe POV

Something shifts in Chloe’s face.

It’s fast — a flicker, there and gone, the involuntary tells of someone whose answer isn’t as ready as it should be. She clears her throat. Squares her shoulders. The composure slides back into place, but it takes a half-second longer than usual, and I catch every part of that half-second.

“I was terrified,” she says. Her voice is still steady, still pitched for the room. “If I had reached out — if the people ...