Chapter 11. Bait

Wren POV

I didn't call my father.

I thought about it all Sunday. I sat on my bed with his number open on my screen and my thumb over the video call button, practicing the signs in my head. Dad, did you send someone to follow me?

And then I imagined his face.

The careful, patient face he'd worn for two years, every time he looked at me. Like I was made of glass and he was standing too close.

If I asked, he'd lie. Or worse, he'd tell me the truth, and the truth would be that he thought I couldn't survive a single semester without a bodyguard. That he'd hired a stranger to make sure his broken daughter didn't break again.

Either way, I'd be home by Christmas.

So I did what I always did. I kept my mouth shut, and I made a plan.

If I couldn't ask the question, I'd make Silas answer it without knowing he had.

On Monday, I tested the easy things.

ME: Library at 2.