“Just say the word ‘ready’.”

“We’ll do the rest.”

I rubbed my temples, feeling the strain in my neck.

The headache that had been lingering all day was getting worse.

“I want to go home,” I said.

“We’ll have a car take you to the safehouse,” Harris said.

“Get some rest, Natalie. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

The safehouse was a small, unmarked apartment in Glendale.

The kitchen had yellowed linoleum tiles that were peeling at the corners.

The air inside was musty and smelled of old carpet and cheap pine cleaner.

I lay on the thin mattress, staring at the water stains on the ceiling.

Every sound from the street below made me sit up.

I kept thinking about Tyler.

The man I thought I married, the man who held my hand at the beach on our honeymoon.

He was actually Julian Vance.

Every memory felt like a photograph that had been dipped in acid.

I touched my stomach, feeling the slow, heavy roll of the baby.

“We’re almost there,” I whispered into the dark room.