The quiet in the Quinn household that afternoon in Zeden wasn't comforting. It was loud in the wrong way—loud with tension, loud with thoughts, loud with unspoken plans and tightly-wrapped secrets.
Regina paced her bedroom in growing impatience. Her heels clicked across the polished wooden floor as she moved back and forth, arms folded tightly across her chest. The curtains were drawn, but she could still hear the faint noise of the city outside—car horns, people laughing, children playing. All of it grated on her nerves.
She stopped at the edge of her window, her fingers twitching against the cool fabric. Her phone sat on her nightstand like a time bomb. She kept glancing at it, willing it to ring. Any moment now, she thought. Any moment.
