(Almira's POV)
I shove another shirt into the bag, my hands working fast. There’s no time to second-guess this. Lysander is back in America. That means he’s no longer lurking around, watching us from a distance, waiting for the right moment to make his move. If I don’t act now, I might lose the chance forever.
The room is dimly lit, just the bedside lamp casting a soft glow. My heart pounds as I fold a small hoodie and tuck it in next to the other clothes. The twins will need warm clothes where we’re going. It’ll be safer.
I hear the door creak open, and I freeze for a moment before exhaling when I see Rich step inside. His hair is messy, and he’s rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“They’re awake,” he mutters, voice thick with grogginess. “Why’d you tell me to wake them? It’s still early.”
