By morning, James was already out of the house before the sun could properly rise. His heart was racing as he drove straight to Martha’s apartment.
He didn’t even wait to knock twice before she opened the door, her hair scattered, her eyes heavy with sleep.
“She’s alive!” he shouted, breathless, eyes wild with something between fear and hope.
Martha squinted at him, clearly irritated. “Do you know what time it is right now?” she asked sharply. “It’s six in the morning, James. What the hell?”
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, running a hand through his hair. “But you need to hear this.”
She sighed, crossing her arms, but the name already hovering in her mind made her chest tighten. “Who are you talking about?” she asked, though her voice trembled slightly, betraying her suspicion.
“Sarah
