In that moment, I had her completely, and I knew it, and she knew it.

But then something happened that I had not expected.

The shock on my sister’s face began to change.

It curdled, into something else, something worse, something dangerous.

A slow, desperate, calculating smile crept across her mouth.

And instead of falling apart, instead of begging, instead of running, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, and with quick, frantic fingers, she typed a message to a number I could not see.

“You really shouldn’t have come back, Nora,” she whispered.