The silence in the house seemed heavier since the night Luara left. No sound, no smell could erase her memory. Rayder stood in the living room, his eyes fixed on the wall where two old photographs still hung—him, Aurie, and what he once called family. The bitter taste of guilt was as constant as the air he breathed.

Aurie appeared at the top of the stairs, wearing one of his T-shirts that now hung on her provocatively. Her determined gaze contrasted with a face too young to carry ...