Too Late To Claim Me
I stood on the porch with my arms crossed, watching them move like they'd rehearsed it, and felt a strange mix of relief and exposure, like I'd finally stopped hiding and started being watched by people paid specifically to watch.
Their leader crossed the yard first, a woman, mid-forties maybe, dark hair pulled back tight enough it looked like it hurt, eyes doing a slow sweep of the tree line before they ever landed on me.
"Ms. Vance." She held out a hand, grip firm and unhurried. "Dorian. I'll be heading your detail."
"Thank you for coming so quickly."
"Your assistant made it sound urgent." She said it flatly, not quite a question, waiting to see if I'd fill in what Gerald hadn't been able