Luara was sitting on the apartment couch when the phone vibrated for the third time, insistent enough to pull her from the state of calculated quietness she was in. The place was too silent, the kind that doesn't calm, just gives space for dangerous thoughts to organize themselves. She crossed her legs slowly, rested her elbow on the arm of the couch, and watched the unknown number blinking on the screen for a few more seconds before answering.

"It's me," said the voice on the other ...