Mira's POV
The hotel lobby was brighter than I expected.
White lights. Polished floors. A quiet hum of late-night activity that felt almost too normal for the knot sitting in my chest. People moved through the space in slow, tired patterns, a couple dragging suitcases, a man murmuring into his phone near the receptionist rubbing at her eyes behind the counter.
Normal.
Safe.
Public.
I kept my hand wrapped around the handle of Ayla's bag as we stepped inside, like if I let go, something might pull her away again.
She walked beside me, silent, her steps light but careful. She hadn't said much since the drive. That scared me more than panic ever could.
I approached the counter first.
"Good evening," I said, keeping my voice steady. "We need two rooms, preferably close to each other."
