It started with a headline.
The morning had begun innocuously enough—weak sunlight filtering through dusty blinds, the distant hum of traffic three stories below their safehouse apartment. Lila had slept fitfully, dreams punctuated by faceless pursuers and underground rooms with no exits. The sheets were tangled around her legs when consciousness finally pulled her from the labyrinth of her subconscious.
Regan's low, strained voice called Lila into the living room, waking her. Before her feet had even touched the ground, she was on high alert due to the tension and urgency in his tone.
“You must see this.”
Walking barefoot across the safehouse's worn floor, she put on the baggy sweatshirt she had thrown away the previous evening. The cool hardwood underfoot contrasted sharply with th
