Chapter 106 The Sound She Makes When She's Silenced

• The safehouse wasn’t much. A two-bedroom apartment tucked above a quiet bakery in a district that smelled like flour and cinnamon in the morning and sour beer and cigarettes at night. But for now, it was enough. Just enough.
• They’d made it through the move—new names, fake IDs, burner phones. Knox didn’t stop checking the windows, the door locks, the alley below the fire escape. Bishop was tracking leads, Decker pretending to nap while watching old boxing matches muted on the living room TV.
• But in their room—hers and Knox’s—there was quiet. A breath. The lull before whatever came next.