The morning light cut through the curtains like a blade, and Serena hadn’t slept a fucking second. She sat on the edge of the bed with her back straight and her hands loose in her lap, the unknown number’s last message still looping in her head. All of it sat in her chest like wet concrete. She could stop.She could burn the photos on her phone, forget the shipping logs, forget the letter E and Salvatore’s personal code and the fourteenth and the east warehouse. She could smile at breakfast, keep her head down, let Damien’s quiet threats and Vanessa’s careful eyes keep her breathing until the higher authority swept through and left nothing but empty rooms and clean bloodstains. Or she could keep digging until the house swallowed her whole. Her phone stayed under the mattress. The knife stayed in the drawer. She dressed in dark jeans and a soft black sweater that covered the new bruise on her arm, covered the old one on her throat, covered everything that mattered. Makeup did the r
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