94
Sara
I sleep restlessly, waking up what feels like every half hour. Each time I drift off, anxious dreams about Peter combine with fragments of nightmares about my parents’ deaths to jerk me awake. It’s on the fifth such wake-up that I stumble to the bathroom, bleary-eyed, and decide to read for a bit to distract my overactive brain.
Throwing on a silk robe that I’ve borrowed from Nora, I turn on the bedside lamp, grab a book, and curl up in the arm chair, yawning.
With any luck, I won’t be up long.
I’m halfway through another chapter when I hear it.
A creaking sound right outside my door.
Startled, I look over and see the door swing open.
A tall, black-clothed figure stands in the doorway—a bearded man I’ve never seen before. His eyes widen as he sees me, and the assault rifle
