THE BUILDING looked exactly like what she had expected.
Concrete. Unmarked. Squat and functional, tucked between a shuttered tire shop and a fenced-in lot littered with gravel and weeds. No signage. No windows facing the street. Nothing that promised safety or comfort or anything resembling a welcome. A single security light buzzed above a steel door, its glow harsh and indifferent, illuminating the keypad Jeremiah had sent without commentary.
Lily slowed as she approached, the sound of her footsteps loud in the quiet street. The cold bit through her coat, through the thin barrier of composure she had been holding together since she stepped off the bus. Her body was still riding adrenaline. Her feet ached. Her throat felt raw, the memory of pressure lingering like a phantom bruise.
She
