Martha stood there, shrouded in the shadows of the trees, her face illuminated by the faint moonlight breaking through the canopy. For a moment, time seemed to freeze, the sounds of gunfire fading into the background as I stared at her, confusion and fear twisting inside me.
"Martha?" I whispered, my voice trembling. "What are you doing here?"
Ava stirred in my arms, clutching her stuffed rabbit tightly as she peeked up at Martha with wide, trusting eyes. She didn't understand the fear gripping me, the cold realization that had begun to creep into my mind.
Martha took a step closer, her face expressionless. "Alice, you need to come with me. Now."
Something in her tone sent a chill down my spine. It wasn't the gentle, maternal voice I had grown accustomed to—this was something else. Calculated. Cold.
"What are you talking about?" I asked, taking a step back, my arms tightening protectively around Ava. "We're trying to get away from Ferraro's men."
