The hours following the furious departure of Chris and Léna were filled with heavy silences and subtle tremors. Marina, sitting on the sofa wrapped in the blanket Paul had given her, stared into space. The shock was giving way to a strange lucidity, cold and sharp as a blade. The fear was still there, lurking in her belly beside the child, but a new, more solid sensation was emerging from the wreckage: a cold anger, and an iron resolve.
Paul, meanwhile, was in perpetual motion. He had locked the door, drawn the curtains, made tea she hadn't touched. His nervous energy sought an outlet in action.
"We can't stay here," he finally said, stopping in front of her. "They know the address. Léna… she's capable of anything. We move. Somewhere else in Quebec, farther, another province. We disappea
