Lyse didn't remember the drive to the detention center. She didn't remember grabbing her keys, didn't remember locking her door, didn't even remember taking the highway. She moved on instinct, pushed forward by a tangled knot of dread and obligation she didn't understand and didn't want to examine too closely or ellse she would find herself running for the hills.
The building rose ahead of her gray, sharp-edged, cold. Too still. Too quiet.
She parked and sat there for a moment gripping the steering wheel with numb fingers.
This was a mistake.
She shouldn't have come. She should have gone to the meeting with Brandon. She should have worked on the collaboration. She should have done literally anything else.
But she was here.
And Lottie's message been echoing through her mind the whole drive:
It's about your mother.
Those words were the hook. The trap. The tether she couldn't rip free from.
Lyse exhaled and stepped out of the car.
