“Where is he?” Morales asked softly, trying not to startle the girl.

“Upstairs,” Jimena replied, her voice a whisper. “He usually sleeps during the day.”

Morales nodded, his instincts on high alert. He motioned for Jimena to stay close as they moved cautiously through the house. Every creak of the floorboards felt amplified, echoing through the silence. The house, though modest in size, seemed to stretch on, its corridors winding like a labyrinth.

As they reached the staircase, Jimena hesitated. She glanced up, her expression a mix of fear and determination. “I don’t want him to see me,” she said, clutching her backpack tighter.