Aurora’s P.O.V
As soon as we step inside, I exhale a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The house is eerily quiet, but for once, that silence brings me comfort instead of fear. There’s no sound of heavy boots stomping against the floor, no slurred curses or the rattling of beer bottles being thrown against the wall. He isn’t here. That means he’s either passed out drunk in some alley or holed up in a smoky gambling den, chasing the illusion of luck with the last of his winnings.
Good. I don’t have to tiptoe around tonight.
I bolt the door behind me, securing the deadbolt and the chain, then double-check the windows, making sure every single one is locked. I can’t risk him stumbling in at some ungodly hour, demanding money we don’t have or waking up my brother with his usual rage-
