“Move.”

The word came out low, but it changed the whole room. Carolina looked at my hand around the car keys, then at Gracie’s face tucked against my shoulder, and for one second she seemed to understand I was not asking for permission anymore.

She shifted left when I stepped right, still trying to block the door. “Sawyer, you are not thinking clearly.”

“I have never been clearer in my life.”

Gracie made the smallest sound against my neck, not a sob, not a word, just pain slipping out before she could hide it. That sound did more than any argument could have done. Carolina’s mouth opened, but no sentence came out.

Then my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I almost ignored it. Then it buzzed again.

With Gracie still in my arms, I glanced down and saw a message from the woman next door. It had come in at 8:49 p.m.

Sawyer, I’m sorry. My porch camera caught something yesterday. You need to see it before Carolina deletes whatever she can.

There was a video attached.

Carolina saw the screen at the same time I did.

The color drained from her face so completely that even Gracie lifted her head. Carolina reached for the phone without thinking, fast and desperate, but I turned my shoulder and stepped back.

“Give me that,” she whispered.

That was when I knew the bruise was not the only thing she had been hiding.

The bakery bag slid off the table and hit the floor. Sweet rolls spilled across the tile. Carolina stared at the video thumbnail like it was a loaded weapon, and her hand went to the doorframe because her knees had started to give.

I pressed my thumb against the screen.

The video opened.

And the very first frame showed Gracie standing near the living room window while Carolina raised her hand and—

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