It was two forty-seven in the morning when Lena’s phone didn’t just vibrate—it convulsed. The frantic buzzing was so violent it sent the device skittering across her nightstand, casting the room in a cold, clinical blue light. She jolted awake, slick with sweat, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. It had only been a week. One week since her mother had finally succumbed to ...
