ADRIAN
Katrina froze when a noise echoed from outside—gravel shifting under tires, footsteps, something too deliberate to be an animal. She turned to me with wide, frightened eyes.
“Adrian… be quiet,” she whispered. “Please.”
Before I could respond, a knock sounded at the door. It was sharp and firm. Not panicked, but professional.
Katrina’s breath hitched. “Go to your room. Don’t come out. It might be… bad people. Looking for you. From the accident.”
She didn’t know I remembered everything now. I was done playing helpless, but I nodded anyway.
“Okay.”
I stepped into the bedroom, leaving the door cracked just enough to see the entryway. Katrina smoothed her hair, wiped her palms on her jeans, and forced a smile before opening the door.
A man stood there—broad-shouldered, calm, wea
