Portia
It's so quiet, it's almost eerie. I look up at the ceiling, watching steam rise from my bath. I hear a drop of water fall into the tub. That's it. That's the only sound. And it feels somehow wrong.
The bedroom door opens. I turn my head, but from this angle I can't see who it is. It's quiet again. Like whoever opened the door just walked away.
"Callahan?" I ask quietly, sitting up, drawing my knees toward my chest.
He doesn't answer. No one does, but if I listen closely, I hear footsteps in the living room, then whispers. Men's whispers. Soldiers?
No.
Not soldiers.
Ice coats my spine when I hear his voice. He shouldn't be here. Callahan wouldn't allow him to be here.
Would he? He wouldn't do that to me, would he?
I look around for a robe, a towel. Something to cover myself,
