Leone
The quiet in the car is a living thing, suffocating and dense; it seems to breathe on its own, making each breath I take harsher. I’m coiled tight, and every muscle tenses as memories of the night play on an endless loop in my head. Fallon’s profile is etched against the windowpane, her eyes distant.
My thoughts spiral back to earlier. Fallon had been gone too long, and I was about to go find her. My father’s hand landed on my shoulder, heavy and restraining.
“No need,” he tells me. “She’s in the hall by the kitchen,” he says, and I glance at Milo, who is watching me.
I turn to him, my suspicion a live wire snapping in the air between us. “How do you know that?”
“I’m aware of everything that happens under my roof. I got a notification that someone was in the kitchen with your mo
