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The reality of her situation crystalized with each step: Vincent Knox wanted her dead, the police department harbored at least one traitor, her carefully constructed life had been reduced to whatever she could carry and whatever Julia could protect.

Independence, control, self-sufficiency—the pillars upon which she'd built her existence—had been stripped away in the span of seventy-two hours.

"Stop." Julia's command came so suddenly that Ivy nearly collided with her. "Listen."

Ivy held her breath, straining to hearwhatever had alerted Julia. At first, there was nothing but the whisper of wind through pine needles. Then she caught it—a distant mechanical sound, rhythmic and growing louder.

"Helicopter," Julia murmured. "Police or news wouldn't fly this pattern at night."

"Knox?" Ivy asked, though she already knew the answer.

Julia nodded once, jaw tight. "We need cover. Now."

They veered sharply left, heading deeper into a stand of ancient pines. The canopy thickened overhead, providing a natural shield against aerial observation. Julia moved with renewed urgency, guiding them through the densest sections of forest with unerring precision.

The helicopter's thumping grew louder, searchlights cutting through the trees in sweeping patterns some distance to their right. Ivy's heart hammered in her chest, her breath coming in short, controlled bursts as she fought to keep pace with Julia.

The cabin appeared before them so suddenly it seemed to materialize from the darkness itself, a solid shadow against the forestbackdrop. Low, rustic, with a metal roof and small windows, it looked like it had grown from the mountainside rather than been built upon it.

Julia approached cautiously, signaling for Ivy to remain at the tree line. The helicopter sounds had faded, but the threat they represented lingered in the tense set of Julia's shoulders as she circled the structure, checking entry points and sightlines with methodical thoroughness.

Finally satisfied, she returned to where Ivy waited, her expression unreadable in the darkness. "It's clear. Let's get inside before that helicopter circles back."

The interior of the cabin was cold and musty from disuse. Julia secured the door behind them, throwing three separate deadbolts before drawing heavy curtains across the windows. Only then did she extract a small tactical flashlight from her pocket, its beam illuminating a space both rustic and functional—a main room with kitchenette, a small sofa, a woodstove in one corner, and a single door that presumably led to a bedroom.

"Home sweet home," Julia said, the firsthint of wry humor Ivy had heard from her since their reunion.

The absurd normality of the statement, given their circumstances, punctured something in Ivy's carefully maintained composure. Exhaustion, fear, and the surreal quality of the entire situation converged in a single moment of clarity.

This was real. All of it. The danger, the isolation, the forced proximity to a woman she'd shared intimacy with but didn't actually know. For the next three weeks, her world had contracted to this cabin, these mountains, and Detective Julia Scott.

"I need to sit down," Ivy said, her voice distant to her own ears.

Julia's expression shifted, professional assessment giving way to something that might have been concern. "Take the sofa. I'll get a fire started."

Ivy sank onto the worn cushions, watching as Julia moved efficiently around the small space checking supplies, securing entry points, preparing the woodstove with practiced hands. Each motion revealed something new about her: competence, preparedness, attention to detail.

Outside, the wind picked up, branches scraping against the cabin's metal roof like skeletal fingers. The helicopter had gone silent, but Ivy knew its absence was temporary. Knox wouldn't give up so easily. Not when she carried the knowledge that could dismantle his entire operation.

"We're safe for tonight," Julia said, as if reading her thoughts. The fire had caught, its warm glow softening the stark lines of her face. "Try to rest. Tomorrow we'll establish proper security protocols."

"Is that what we're calling it?" Ivy asked, too tired to filter her thoughts. "Protocols?"

Julia's eyes met hers across the cabin, something unspoken passing between them. "Yes," she said finally. "That's what we're calling it. Everything else is a distraction."

As the fire's heat gradually filled the small space, Ivy recognized the truth in Julia's words. Whatever had happened between them at the Oceana Hotel existed in another life—one where Ivy Monroe wasn't a target and Julia Scott wasn't her shield.

For now, at least, those were the only identities that mattered.

4

JULIA

The fire's warmth finally reached the farthest corners of the cabin, but it did little to thaw the tension between its occupants. Julia made another circuit of the small space, checking locks she'd already secured twice, testing windows that hadn't been opened in months. Each movement was precise, economical, a physical manifestation of her hypervigilance.

"Is the third check really necessary?" Ivy asked from her position on the worn sofa. "Or is this just how you avoid conversation?"

Julia paused at the north-facing window, her reflection ghostly against the darkness beyond. "Security isn't a one-time effort." Sheadjusted the heavy curtain, ensuring not even a sliver of light could escape. "It's continuous assessment and adaptation."