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Lark

I stared at my phone long after the messages stopped.

Marley was alive.

She was safe.

But nothing about it felt right.

I reread the first one:

Marley: Leaving Gaza early. Got a story you’re not going to believe.

Then the second:

Marley: And by the way… tell Axel Frasier says hi.

Tell Axel?

That didn’t sit right.

I thought she was in Jordan.

She knew he’d gone after her. Knew what that meant. And yet she hadn’t asked about him. No “Is he okay?” No “Did he make it?” Not even a “Don’t let him come.”

It was Marley-speak. Disguised distance. A message within a message.

I turned the screen toward Grandma Shirley. “Read this and tell me I’m not imagining things.”

She squinted, then sat back with a hum. “That girl’s hiding something.”

“She’s supposed to be in Jordan,” I said. “But she’s already leaving Gaza?”

“And not a single word about your man? Not even a thank-you-for-risking-your-life note?” Mable snorted. “Either she’s lying about where she is, or something’s gone sideways.”

Willa leaned forward. “Do you think Marley’s warning you?”

“I don’t know.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “But if she’s not in danger anymore, why hasn’t Axel checked in?”

Grandma Shirley gave me a long look. “Sweetheart, when you’ve been in this world long enough, you learn something: silence is never neutral. It either means someone’s safe and hiding... or someone’s not safe at all.”

My stomach clenched. “I need to find out where that message came from.”

“You can try,” Willa said. “But Marley’s a pro at covering her tracks. She told me a few of her stories, and they were nothing like yours. And Axel… if he’s off the grid, it’s because he has to be.”

That wasn’t good enough. “I can tell you’ve learned a lot since coming here.”

I stood up, phone clenched in my fist. “I’m not just going to sit around waiting for scraps.”

“Then don’t,” Grandma said, calm as ever. “But take a breath before you leap off a cliff. You’ve got friends. Resources. And a smart head on your shoulders—even if you’ve been throwing it into tornadoes for ten years.”

I managed a weak smile. “So what do I do?”

Grandma reached into the old bread box on her counter and pulled out something wrapped in a faded napkin.

A burner phone.

“Call the number under Mountain. ”

I blinked. “You have a burner phone in a bread box?”

“I also have a stun gun in the flour bin. You want it?”

“…Kind of.”

She handed me the phone. “That number will reach someone who knows things. Ask for Lena. Tell her you’re Axel Martin’s girl.”