CLAUDE
HE DIDN’T EVEN tell me when he left.
I had still been in bed when a knock sounded at the door. The sound dragged me from sleep, and when I reached across the mattress, my hand met nothing but cold sheets.
The space next to me was empty.
I should have known then.
When I opened the door, a man dressed in all black stood there, his posture rigid, his gaze fixed anywhere but on me.
“Boss said I should tell you he won’t be back soon.”
Soon.
That was four days ago.
My stomach twisted, a slow, twisting ache forming in the pit of my gut because the last time he left, he came back with two bullet wounds.
I didn’t want to see that again.
I didn’t want to sit here, waiting, suffocating in this house while my mind ran in circles, wondering if this was the time h
