flash
I didn’t wait for the paramedics. I broke every speed limit in Seattle to reach the Fremont duplex. When I burst through the front door, the sight of two identical girls—small, terrified, holding hands—nearly brought me to my knees. Hazel and Iris. T / Chapter 8 / 10

Chapter 8 - THE WAKE-UPI woke up in the hospital next to Sloan. She was awake, her hand clutching mine. "You idiot," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "You were supposed to stay away."

"I have eight years of being a father to catch up on," I said, ignoring the pain in my shoulder. "You're never going back to the shadows, Sloan. Not while I’m breathing."

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The heavy mahogany door of the east gallery closed softly behind me, but the silence inside did not comfort me. It pressed down like lead.

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The cool marble of the private east gallery felt chilling beneath my fingertips. The pale moonlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminated The Blue Woman, the haunting masterpiece my mother had painted just weeks before her tragic death.

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