The glow of the phone screen in the bushes grew stronger as I inched forward. The air felt tight around me, laced with the kind of electricity that warned of revelations and danger.
I crouched down and pulled the device out. It was an old model, cracked and buzzing with a dying battery. On the screen, one message blinked:
"Look up."
I froze.
Before I could react, a voice behind me whispered, "You shouldn’t be out here alone."
I whirled around, heart in my throat. There he was.
Noah.
Disheveled. Hooded. Breathing hard like he’d run miles to get here. His presence struck me like a forgotten melody. Not a dream. Not a ghost. Real.
"Noah?" I said, disbelieving. "You're supposed to be gone."
"They wanted you to think I was."
My mind reeled. Behind him, the shadows of the safe house lo
