Elena's P.O.V
I should have known sneaking out at night would feel like breaking out of prison.
Every step sounded too loud in the quiet street—the crunch of gravel, the whisper of grass brushing my ankles. Jack clutched my hand tighter than usual. His little fingers were sweaty, but I didn’t let go. Not when we were doing something this risky.
Maribelle walked ahead of us like she had done this a hundred times. Her shoulders were square, her head held high. She didn’t even flinch when a dog barked in the distance.
I tried to copy her confidence, but inside my chest, my heart was throwing punches.
“Mommy,” Jack whispered, tugging my sleeve, “why are we walking in the dark? Can’t we just wait till morning?”
Good question, kid. If I said it out loud, Maribelle would roll
