Chapter 62

Iris

We don’t go to the packhouse. That would be suicide.

We go to the one place no one would ever look for us.

My old house.

The air is bitter outside, and the streets are quiet. The wind bites at my face as we walk through the neighborhood I used to know. It’s been forever since I last saw it, but somehow, everything still looks the same. The small wooden houses. The leaning mailbox. The dent in