I was half awake, drinking terrible coffee, Lily coloring on the floor, my mom moving slowly nearby, humming.
The knock on the door was hard enough to rattle the frame.
Then harder.
“You expecting someone?” my mom called, voice tight.
“No,” I said, already standing.
The third knock sounded like someone collecting a debt.
I opened the door with the chain still on.
Two men in dark coats—one broad, with an earpiece—and behind them, the man from the train.
He said my name carefully.
“Mr. Anthony?” he asked.
“Pack Lily’s things.”
The world tilted.
“What?”
The big man stepped forward.
“Sir, you and your daughter need to come with us.”
Lily’s fingers gripped the back of my leg.
My mom appeared beside me, cane planted.
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