The Mistress
And as the sun rose over the city, the only thing left of the Pure Vermon was a woman rocking a ghost in a room filled with white light.
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“Is it time for the secret move, Nana? Are we winning the game?”
Ethan’s voice was small, muffled by the plush sparrow he pressed against his cheek. He was huddled on the floor of the backseat, just as Rita had told him. To a four-year-old, the screeching tires and the blinding rain were just special effects in the “Great Escape” Nana had promised.
“Yes, my brave boy,” Rita choked out, her eyes darting to the rearview mirror. The black SUVs were gaining, their engines roaring like beasts. “We’re just going to the secret garden. Mommy will meet us there