She knelt, the charger dangling from her hand like an afterthought—like it wasn’t the real reason she was there. Julia leaned closer to the screen, pulse hammering. The woman’s hand disappeared behind the TV unit. She shifted, shoulder dipping, and for a second Julia saw the small black box of the router move. A cable tugged. The lights blinked. No.
Julia’s thumb hovered over the screen as if she could reach through it and stop her. Then Marcus moved. Not in the chair—out of it. It was sudden and wrong, like watching a statue come to life. His palms slammed onto the armrests, muscles in his forearms standing out as he pushed. His torso lifted.