The bedside clock glowed red—1:00 a.m. Millie lay on her back, still in her jeans and shirt, staring at the ceiling. Their bags sat untouched in the corner, a silent reminder of their escape plan.
Her thoughts churned. She still couldn’t believe they had stayed simply because Sheila told them to. Every instinct in her wanted to run, to get as far from the estate as possible. But Sheila had been right—they had no money, no transportation, and the Morettis owned everything for miles in every direction. If they ran, they’d be found fast.
She rolled over again, squeezing her eyes shut, but images of Evan and Ethan kept flashing through her mind.
After a while, she gave up and slipped out of bed.
“Mills?” Clara mumbled. “Where are you going?”
Millie paused at the door and looked back. Clar
