~~~Anne's POV~~~The door clicks shut behind him, and nothing about me feels safer.If anything, it feels worse. Because now I know. He isn't guessing anymore. He is searching. Actively. Methodically. With resources I can't imagine and reach I can't escape.Austin.The name echoes in my head like a warning bell.I lie in his bed, in his room, in his house, and stare at the ceiling. The sheets smell like him. The pillows smell like him. Everything around me is him, and I can't breathe.He is going to find out. He is going to find you, Austin. And then—I can't finish the thought. Don't want to.I press my hands against my eyes. Try to stop the tears. Fail.Mommy's sorry, baby. Mommy's so sorry.---Carmela comes later.She moves quietly, the way she always does, her footsteps soft on the marble floor. She carries a tray — soup, bread, tea — and sets it on the nightstand without a word.I watch her.She doesn't look at me. That isn't unusual. Carmela has never been warm. But today, ther
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