Chapter 43 The house He Lived In

Freya’s POV

The car ride was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Clarence didn’t speak much, and I didn’t mind. I was too busy staring out the window with my thoughts all over the place.

I hadn’t asked where we were going exactly, but the moment the streets widened and the buildings grew shinier, I knew.

I’d walked this district maybe three times in my whole life. Once with my mother, when we were just passing through, and she told me not to stare too long. That people here could smell desperation, and we didn’t need trouble. Once on my own, looking for a job in the dead heat of summer, trying not to sweat through my only decent shirt. And once last year, just to see what it felt like to pretend I belonged here.

It hadn’t felt good. Now here I was again. Only this time, I wasn’t walking.

I was being driven.