Regina reached the nurse’s residence a little past midnight.
The house sat quietly at the end of a narrow street, the kind of place people forgot existed unless they needed to disappear. Two floors. Faded cream paint. Rusty gate. Dim porch light flickering like it had secrets to keep.
“This is a good hiding spot,” the nurse had said earlier, with a greedy little smile that made Regina’s skin crawl. “No one looks twice here.”
But the moment Regina stepped out of the car, guilt slammed into her chest so hard she staggered.
Like someone had punched straight through her ribs and squeezed her heart with bloody fingers.
You ran, stole. You used him.
Her mind betrayed her immediately, dragging her back to a memory she hated more than any other.
Bret’s hand around her neck. Not tight enough
