and
The rain came down harder now—sharp, cold needles stinging Vanessa's skin. The bus still hadn't come, and the last of the city's noise had faded into a hushed lull. She wrapped her coat tighter, eyes distant, mind unraveling everything that had happened over the past week.
Clarice.
Stacy.
The lie.
And Rowen—his face when he looked at that photo. Like a stranger.
Her fingers trembled as she wiped rain from her lashes. She had been so certain of what they had, of their trust. She had stood beside him, defended him, raised his daughter like her own. And still… all it took was one seed of doubt.
A low laugh sounded nearby—followed by the heavy thud of footsteps.
Three men approached from the shadows, movements slow but deliberate. One of them flicked a toothpick between his teeth; another spun a chain loosely around his hand. They were smiling in that way predators smile before striking.
"Hey, sweetheart," one of them said, his voice greasy. "You look cold."
