The safehouse walls seemed to breathe with her, closing in tighter every time Elena drew a shaky breath. She sat curled on the worn sofa, knees hugged tightly to her chest, eyes fixed on the ceiling where cracks splintered like veins. It had been hours since they arrived, yet she felt no safer than when the fire had nearly consumed them. The silence was heavy, a suffocating presence between her and Michael.
Michael paced the length of the room, his boots scuffing against the floorboards. He had always been steady, the calm in chaos, but tonight the cracks in his patience showed. His hand flexed at his side, his jaw was rigid, and his eyes burned with words he couldn’t quite say.
“Say something,” he finally muttered, his voice low and raw.
Elena turned her head slowly, her eyes shimmerin
