The safe house was too quiet. For someone like Zara, silence wasn't peace; it was a reminder of the three months she’d spent staring at a phone that wouldn't ring.
I was upstairs with Aria, watching her sleep, but the sound of a cabinet slamming in the kitchen drew me to the hallway. I leaned against the railing, looking down.
Theo was sitting at the wooden farmhouse table, looking like a discarded action figure. His tactical shirt was gone, replaced by a grey t-shirt that was two sizes too small and definitely belonged to a Bureau agent. Zara was standing over him, brandishing a bottle of antiseptic like a weapon.
"If you don't sit still, Theo, I swear I will use this staple gun instead of bandages," Zara threatened. Her voice was sharp, but the way her hands hovered near his neck gave
