She wanted to turn and run, to flee the bar without looking back. But her purse was still on the table. She couldn’t leave without her wallet; it wasn’t just the inconvenience—it was her lifeline, her connection to safety.
Amelia took a shaky breath, forcing herself to walk back to the table, her movements deliberate and steady. She tried to mask the panic thrumming in her veins, pasting a smile on her face as she approached Jonathan.