But she never finished the sentence. Joanna shoved her aside with a sudden burst of strength, surprising even herself. Amy staggered, and before she could recover, Joanna was already storming toward the stairwell.
Her breath came in sharp gasps as she descended flight after flight, clutching the railing for balance. The pounding of her footsteps echoed like war drums in the empty stairwell. Each step down felt like shedding another layer of weakness, of despair.
When she finally burst through the exit door, the night air hit her like a tidal wave. The chill wind stung her cheeks, mixing with the hot tears streaming down her face. She doubled over for a moment, clutching her stomach, forcing her breathing into rhythm.
No. I won’t collapse. Not tonight.
Straightening her spine, she gazed up at the starless sky. For the first time in months, she wasn’t thinking about Carson. She wasn’t thinking about Alice. She was thinking only of herself—of survival, of freedom.
But freedom rarely comes without a price.
A low rumble caught her attention. Headlights cut through the darkness as a sleek black car rolled to a stop at the curb. Her heart clenched. She knew that car.
The window slid down, revealing a man’s face—strong, familiar, and unsettling. The one she had called earlier in desperation. The one person outside of her father who had once vowed to stand by her.
“Get in,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “This isn’t the place for you anymore.”