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My hands shake as I try to understand where I am.

The river at my side, the hotel towering behind me.

I’m at least twenty blocks from the Bolton house.

Stumbling up to the street, my mind spins with options. I need someone to tell me what to do because I don’t think I’ll survive running again.

My phone drops to the ground when I fish it out of my pocket. I grab it, barely able to unlock the screen before I see Frank across the street, pulling out of the clinic parking lot. He slows to a stop when he spots me, then pulls his car up to the curb.

The passenger window rolls down and he leans over the seat. “Zaiya, you okay?”

My brain is scrambled. My body won’t quit shaking. I don’t know how to answer.

When I shake my head, he parks and rushes over to me.

“Hey, hey…” His arms wrap around my shoulders without hesitation. “Tell me what’s going on.”

The words take a moment to form. “It was him.” I choke back a sob. “The man who killed my brother. He found me.”

Frank’s expression hardens. “Zaiya…”

“I want to go to the police.” My head nods as I draw in a breath, trying to force certainty into myself.

“I’ll take you.”

The passenger door swings open. A few bags get tossed into the backseat before he waits beside the car for me to climb in. My eyes lock on the road ahead while adrenaline still pumps through me.

This is the right thing to do. The smart thing. I can’t keep running and waiting for someone to save me.

The Order hasn’t given me the one thing I came here for. Safety.

This town has sunk its teeth into me and dragged me down into its pit. Vanishing here feels dangerously simple. I can’t lose myself the way I lost everything else.

Something has to be done.

Frank’s arm stays firm around my shoulder as we step into the hole in the wall they call a police station. It sits in the historic district, inside one of the buildings still standing from the 1800s.

Protection doesn’t exactly fit here. It’s more of a waiting room suspended in stillness.

At the front desk, a woman looks up from painting her nails and smiles. The sweet chemical scent of polish irritates my nostrils.

“Hey, Reverend. What can I do for you?” Her cheerfulness is out of place.

I glance at Frank for help. My thoughts are knotted so tightly that I can’t separate them. Words sit heavy in my mouth. I don’t know how to begin or which version of the truth they expect.

Frank gives me a small, steadying nod and speaks before I lose my nerve.

“Well, Sherry, I’m afraid there’s been an attempted kidnapping.”

The smile on her face drops with a slow exhale through her nose like she’s already tired of this.

From the corner of the room, an officer lifts his head from his desk. Recognition tugs at my memory until I place him.

The man Evelyn flirted with in the church basement.

I check Frank for any sign of animosity. If there is any, he hides it perfectly.

“Chief!” Sherry calls.