The exchange happened quietly—terrifying, controlled, and fast. After that, the black sedan disappeared, and the pressure of being watched finally eased.
But one question still screamed in my head: where was Dad? Larry finally exhaled and said, “I know exactly where he is.”
We drove for hours, deeper into the Midwest, until the roads turned to dirt. Then a small cabin appeared in a clearing like it had been swallowed by the woods.
A figure stood on the porch, shoulders shaking. I didn’t wait—I ran. “Dad!” I screamed as my tears finally came.
He collapsed into us, sobbing. Larry gripped his shoulder and said, “It’s over.” And for a moment, it actually felt true.
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