An hour stretches into two.
Two into three.
By the time the light has slid from harsh white to the soft gold of late afternoon across my bedroom floor, my nerves are frayed raw.
I wear a path between the window and the door, pausing every few minutes to peer through the glass like some desperate lighthouse keeper scanning for a ship.
Nothing.
Finally, as the shadows of the trees start to stretch long over the driveway, I see dust on the road below. Two black cars appear around the bend and roll toward the gates.
My heart climbs into my throat.
“They’re back,” I breathe.
Mia appears at my elbow like I summoned her. “You’re sure?” she asks, already pressing closer to the window.
“Unless he has a side hustle as an Uber driver,” I say, “yes.”
The cars pass through the gates and disap
