The gifts in the locker behind her — she had chosen each one to please people who had never once wondered what would please her.

The year of quiet payments, the cover it for now, babe — she had told herself it was love, and it had been a toll, a fee she paid over and over for a membership that did not exist.

By the time she was two miles up that dark road, soaked through, her fingers gone numb around the strap of her bag, Rafaela was no longer heartbroken.

She was awake.

And an awake woman, it turns out, is a far more dangerous thing than a heartbroken one.

Chapter 4 — The Location