Kendra’s POV
“Please don’t hurt them.”
My voice came out small, but steady. “They’re good people. They didn’t do anything. They’re not involved in whatever this is.”
He didn’t speak. Just stood there, staring. The silence was suffocating. Then, without a word, he reached into his pocket. My spine stiffened. I couldn’t breathe.
But when he pulled his hand back out, it wasn’t a weapon. Well, it was, but not in the way I feared.
It was the knife.
My knife.
No… my mother’s knife.
He held it out to me, resting in the middle of his palm like an offering. I didn’t wait. I lurched forward and snatched it from his hand like it might disappear if I hesitated.
Relief hit me like a wave, but it was quickly swallowed by a flood of something else. Confusion. Suspicion.
“How do you know my moth
