The peace of the previous night did not survive the morning. It evaporated the moment the sun hit the windowpane, replaced by the shrill, persistent buzzing of multiple devices. I woke up not to the sound of birds or the quiet hum of the house, but to the vibration of my phone against the nightstand, followed immediately by Marcus's phone on his side, and then the landline in the hallway. It was a symphony of disruption.
I sat up, the duvet falling away. My head felt heavy, stuffed with cotton. The exhaustion from the bunker, the deposition, and the brief moment of respite at home had settled into my bones. But there was no time to rest. Marcus was already awake, reaching for his phone. He looked at the screen and his face hardened.
"It's David," he said. "And Sarah. And the school."
"T
