Rose stared at the text, her fingers frozen around her phone as if her skin had turned to ice.
Think about Ella.
Three words. That was all it took to pull the air from her lungs.
She read it again, and again.
Her stomach twisted in on itself, the room spinning slightly as nausea built like a slow, suffocating tide. The walls around her, once familiar, now felt like they were closing in.
This wasn’t just a threat anymore. Not an empty warning thrown her way to frighten her into submission.
This was real.
Her father and Amy weren’t just watching her they were planning something.
And worse, they knew exactly where to strike.
“Ella,” she whispered under her breath, her voice cracking. The thought of that little girl, so full of light and innocence, tangled up in a game this dark made
