Enzo MorettiI stepped forward cautiously, my hand hovering in the air. If I hadn’t seen her lash out earlier, I might have rested it on her shoulder.“I’m really sorry,” I said.She turned to face me, tears streaking her face, though she tried to push them away.It wasn’t my fault for thinking she was married. The way she was dressed screamed 'date night.' Her brown hair in soft ringlets, rose-colored lipstick, and a dress meant for special occasions. My gut told me she was heading to meet someone important, maybe her husband, before she got roped into helping me.If I was right, I needed to know immediately. If someone saw her leave with me and started looking for her, my safety was on the line.She might’ve helped me, but I wasn’t going to risk my life over a misstep.“I want to go home,” she said, her voice trembling.My instincts flared. This was survival. My life depended on dissecting every word, every move, because trust was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Everyone had a price, an
Last Updated : 2024-12-05 Read more