Code Name: Solace

CHAPTER FIVE

I obeyed, extending the phone to Joe. "It's Warren."

Joe took it and turned slightly away. "Yeah, boss. No problem."

Boss?

My blood turned to ice.

I stared at the men again, spread out like a formation. Not looking at the house. Looking outward. Guarding.

Six men.

Six flyers.

My body locked up. I had to get out of here.

"Mrs. Solace?" Joe's voice broke through my haze.

I turned sharply, eyes wide. "What?"

"Your husband." He held out the phone.

I swallowed, my fingers curling around the device like a lifeline.

"Winona?" Warren's voice was smooth. Controlled. "Did you hear me?"

I had no idea what he had just said.

"Yes," I lied. My voice was breathy, rushed.

"You let them know your theme, and they'll take care of the rest. I'll be home shortly after they leave."

No I love you. No waiting for a response.

The line went dead.

I let Joe in, pretending to care about renovations, pretending my world wasn't unraveling. I showed him some random inspiration photos, barely hearing him say it would take a few weeks.

Then I locked myself in my bedroom.

I opened my laptop and typed Warren Solace into the search bar.

Nothing.

Not a single image. No records. Just a series of unrelated faces.

I tried our address, searching for our names.

Owen Mayors, 70 and Delilah Mayors, 68.

I felt like I had been punched in the gut.

This house—our house—wasn't even listed under our names.

I was living with a ghost.

A tremor ran through me as I grabbed a suitcase. I stuffed clothes inside, my hands moving fast, my mind racing faster. If I timed it right, I could leave after they packed up. Before Warren came home.

No money. Everything was in our joint account. I'd have to withdraw cash first.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My tired, wild eyes. My frazzled, kinky hair. I looked exactly how I felt—lost.

Vincent was right.

I swallowed my fear, shoved my suitcase into the closet, and waited.

Hours later, Joe and his crew were packing up.

"All done for the day, ma'am," he said, wiping his hands. "See you tomorrow."

I nodded, barely breathing as I watched them leave.

The second they were out of sight, I ran.

I grabbed my suitcase, threw on a jacket, and yanked on my sneakers. My limbs were heavy with exhaustion, but I didn't stop.

I pressed a hand to my stomach. It's okay, little one. I'll protect you.

I bolted for the garage, my pulse thrumming painfully in my ears. My fingers fumbled over the keys in my grip, slick with sweat. My vision tunneled, every step feeling like I was wading through something thick and invisible, a force trying to drag me back.