Aria could not sleep that night. The words from Lorenzo stayed in her head, like a knife scratching a wall. "Sometimes the trap is not where you look, Aria. Sometimes it is inside you."
She lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The shadows on the walls looked like long fingers reaching for her. Her chest felt heavy, like something was sitting on it. Every sound in the apartment made her flinch, the wind at the window, the dripping sink, even her own heartbeat.
But she knew she could not stay in fear. She had to move. She had to fight.
By morning, her eyes were red. She had not slept, but she forced herself up, washed her face, and tied her hair back. When she looked at the mirror, she almost did not recognize herself. She looked older, sharper, like someone who had already lived through a war.
She whispered, "This is not the end. I will not break."
The phone on the table buzzed. She grabbed it fast, hoping for good news. But it was a message again, unknown number.
