The sound of Liam's scream pierced through the rhythmic hum of the sewing machine like a jagged blade.
Alina didn't even think; she was off her chair in a heartbeat, her legs nearly tangling in the expensive fabric as she hysterically rushed into the living room. Her heart wasn't just beating; it was thundering against her eardrums, a frantic rhythm of pure motherly panic.
She skidded to a halt, expecting a fall or a broken vase. Instead, she found Liam standing perfectly still near the door, his small face pale and his eyes wide with a terror she hadn't seen since they were on the run.
Then, her eyes moved to the figure sitting on the sofa. Alina let out a sharp, involuntary scream of her own. For a split second, she thought a shadow had come to life.
Once her heart slowed enough for her brain to function, she realized it was an old woman. Alina leaned against the doorframe, holding her chest and taking deep, shaky breaths, trying to swallow the lump of fear in her throat.
