Jake nodded, accepting the explanation without question. Why wouldn’t he? She’d never lied to him before. He had no reason to doubt her now.
She started the morning’s first real batch, cranberry orange scones, a festival favorite. Her movements were deliberately visible as she reached for one of the water vials from the blue-taped box.
She held it up slightly, angling it toward the window. Made a show of nervousness, checking the street, then measuring from the vial into the mixing bowl. Anyone watching would see compliance. Fear. A baker following orders.
The performance exhausted her more than the actual baking. Every gesture had to sell the story. Every glance toward the windows had to carry the right amount of anxiety. She wasan actress playing the role of her life, and the audience was invisible.
“You okay, boss?” Jake asked during a lull in the morning prep.
“Just stressed about the festival. And worried about Sophie. So much to do.”
At six thirty, Maggie arrived in a blast of cold air and concern. “Is Sophie feeling any better? I texted her but got no response.”
Brie’s stomach clenched. Of course Maggie had texted. Of course Sophie’s phone was silent.
“Still really sick. She’s probably sleeping off the fever.”
“Maybe one of us should check on her?” Maggie’s brow furrowed with genuine worry, and Brie wanted to scream the truth. Sophie’s not sick. She’s tied to a chair somewhere. I saw her face, terrified and bruised, and I can’t tell you because they’ll kill her.
“Let’s give her space,” Brie managed. “She doesn’t like people seeing her when she’s really down.”
Maggie seemed to accept this, heading to the front to prepare for opening. After she left, Brie leaned against the prep table, nausea rising. The lies were multiplying, getting more complicated, and harder to track.
Hunter appeared beside her, his presence reassuring. “You’re doing what you have to.”
“I’m lying to everyone. About everything.”
The morning rush brought a flood of customers, and with them, paranoia. Brie became hyperaware of everyone who entered. The man in the gray coat who lingered near the window, supposedly reading his phone but his eyes kept tracking towardthe kitchen. The woman who ordered coffee but barely drank it, just sat at a corner table watching. The teenager who seemed to be filming on his phone, the angle suspiciously pointed toward the kitchen.
Any of them could be reporting back to the cartel. Or none of them. She had no way to know.
At five thirty, Jake and Maggie prepared to leave.
“Tell Sophie I hope she feels better,” Maggie said, pulling on her coat. “Maybe I’ll try calling her tonight.”
“She’s probably still sleeping.”
After they left, the silence pressed down like a physical weight. Brie and Hunter stood alone in the kitchen, surrounded by the day’s work. Cooling racks held innocent batches destined for the festival. But in the office, the proof batches waited in their marked boxes.
At six PM, Hunter’s phone rang. Brennan.
Hunter accepted the video call, and the chemist’s grotesque face filled the screen. The deterioration had progressed. More patches of fur, more areas where his transformation was stuck between states. His human eye looked yellowed and bloodshot, while the bear eye rolled independently like it belonged to a different body.
“Show me what you’ve accomplished,” Brennan rasped, his voice weaker than before.
Hunter swept the phone across the kitchen, showing the batches of baking.
“Good.” Brennan’s ruined mouth twisted into something approximating satisfaction. “Very good.”
The camera shifted, and Brie’s heart stopped. Sophie appeared in the background, tied to the same metal chair. New bruises darkened her face, and her eyes had sunken deeper into her skull. She looked worse than before. Beside her, three other figures slumped in their restraints. Sophie’s head lifted, and she tried to speak.
“Keep baking,” Brennan said, his voice fading in and out with the poor connection. “Leave samples outside your back door tonight. My associate will collect them for testing.”
The screen went black.
Chapter
Thirty-One
