Silence.
My pulse spikes. I reach for the doorknob.
It turns.
The door opens.
The living room is clean. Couch cushions straight. Coffee table wiped down. Floor vacuumed. My mother’s photo on the shelf, perfectly angled.
My blood goes cold.
This isn’t a wrecked house.
I step back. This is a trap.
A voice comes from the hallway, smooth and calm.
“Evie.”
I spin.
Voss stands there like he belongs in the light of my father’s house. Coat on. Hands relaxed. Smile polite.
My heart slams against my ribs.
“You tricked me,” I snap.
“I did what I had to do,” he says. “Come inside.”
“Where’s my father?” I demand.
His smile doesn’t move. “Alive.”
That word is a warning in his mouth.
I lift the burner. “I’m calling the police.”
He moves fast.
One step and the phone is ripped from my hand. It hits the wall with a hard crack and drops to the floor in pieces.
My breath catches.
Then his fingers close around my wrist, crushing.
Pain shoots up my arm. “Let go.”
“You made this messy,” he says softly. “You made me come into that bar and watch you climb into another man’s lap.”
“I’m not yours,” I hiss, twisting, trying to pull free.
His grip tightens. “You are.”
He yanks me toward the hallway.
Panic rises so fast my vision narrows.
I kick at his shin.
