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“Rhea would let you borrow one.”

“I can ask when she...” I stop short in front of the bakery. “It’s almost ten. They usually call by eight.”

Lazarus’ gray face seems a shade paler. “They do.” He pulls out his phone. “Oh, I missed a text, it...”

“What? What does it say?” I demand, pulling on his elbow, trying to see the screen.

Manny: Hannah’s not feeling great. We’re taking her to the hospital. If we don’t call, it’s because we got busy. Nothing is wrong.

My stomach drops. “I feel like you say that when things are definitely wrong.”

Lazarus nods. “I feel that way, too.”

The rest of the walk is silent.

THE PHONE PINGS BEFORE we’re up the next morning.

Rhea: We could use prayers, you two. Hannah is fighting so hard to keep Emma in. They have her in a special bed that tilts to keep the weight off the cervix to keep the baby in for longer, but they don’t think she can make it another week. Hannah’s had some contractions. She’s scared. Manny is beside himself, but he won’t let anyone see. I wish you could be here with us. Thank you for taking care of the shop. We love you both.

Lazarus paces when he sees it.

I pace with him. Hugging him as we walk.

“I don’t know what to say. I wanna be there. But I don’t. I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“I don’t know what to do, either. I’m praying. I don’t know if God listens to the prayers of murderers.”

Lazarus tilts his head thoughtfully. “Isn’t there something in the Bible about slaying the wicked? Because then, maybe He would. And you’re not a murderer. You’re a soldier in a war to stop what’s worse.”

“I love you.” The words spring out, true as breathing. “You know what to say. You always make me feel better. Thanks, Laz.”

He smiles at me, sighs, and we cling for a minute.

Then he sits and types, and I watch.

Lazarus: Mom. It’s gonna be okay. Whatever happens, it’s gonna be okay, because we’ll all be together. We’re a family. Tell Hannah that Vic and I are praying and rooting for her, and if any nurse or doc treats her bad, we’ll kick their asses from Cleveland to California and back again. Tell Dad that I’m doing great with the business, opening on time and working until the customer is happy. Vic’s so good at that. Tell him it’s okay to fall apart because people who love him will catch him and put him back together. After all, we were all just pieces once. Now look how whole we are. Better than ever.

“Lazarus,” I choke out. “Stop. Like, now I’m crying,” I half-laugh, half-cry, wiping my eyes.

He hits send. Wipes at his eyes. “Fucking mess,” he mutters. “Come on. McAllister AKA McAsshat is going to be here early to glare while I work; I can just feel it.”

His phone pings again.

“Wait, I’m going to need tissues.” I sprint for a tissue box, but there are none in the apartment, so I race to the bathroom to get some toilet paper instead. “Okay, I’m ready,” I zip back and crash onto the couch next to Laz. “Was it Manny or Rhea?”

“Neither. Graham. Screenshot.”

Lazarus pushes the phone out to me.

The name isn’t one I recognize, but I read the words he sent.

No one crosses Pazcuso unless they have to. No one works for him unless they have to now. Too many of his people been torn up by his abomination. Heard he and his inner circle left for the East Coast right after Christmas. Guess even Pazcuso doesn’t want to travel on Christmas Day. Sorry I don’t know more.

“They left for the coast. East Coast. Here. They’re coming here,” Lazarus says in a hollow voice. “They’re coming to bring me back. In pieces.”

I wrap my arm around his shoulders, a cold wave of numbness coating me, just like it used to. Over the last couple of weeks, happiness came back into my life so bright and strong that I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to exist like this. Like an empty house, a pretty exterior with nothing inside.

“Graham’s texting,” Laz’s voice is stiff, like I feel inside. “He says he’s telling the Pine Ridge paranormal community, the police, the Argentos... They own the Italian place, and I hear they were offered a witness protection gig at one point. Guess he figures they might be a target, or maybe a contact.”