Suddenly, Jackson's brow furrows as his phone rings, looking away from the woman to pull out the device and pick up the call.
Maya barely hears him.
Her mind is still trapped in the echo of the grandmother’s words, malicious glee laced into every syllable, wrapping around her like thorns. Jackson killed them….
Jackson murdered four women in his life.
What did that mean for Maya?
What did that mean for the children?
God…. Her children. Her babies.
Her breath shudders out, unsteady, and for a moment, the world around her fades—too sharp and too dull at the same time.
The warmth of the room bleeds into a suffocating chill, the air thick with something unseen but heavy, like storm clouds before a downpour.
Somewhere on the edge of her spiralling mind, Jackson's voice cuts thr
