Page 24

She checked her weapon one final time before settling onto the sofa, positioning herself with a clear view of both the door and the bedroom. Sleep would come in fragments tonight, vigilance overriding exhaustion. It was a familiar state, one her body knew how to navigate after years of training.

What was less familiar was the awareness of Ivy just beyond that closed door—brilliant, vulnerable, and somehow perfectly positioned to breach defenses Julia had maintained for years.

Focus on the mission, she reminded herself.Not the witness. The testimony.

But as the cabin settled into night sounds around her, Julia couldn't help wondering if, for once, the distinction might not be so clear.

Morning arrived with thin light filtering through the cabin's heavy curtains. Julia had been awake for hours, sleep coming in intervals—twenty minutes here, thirty there—her body trained to rest without surrendering vigilance.

She rebuilt the fire with practiced efficiency, her movements quiet so as not to wake Ivy. After checking locks and scanning the perimeter, she found stale coffee grounds in the kitchenette and measured them into the ancient percolator.

The bedroom door opened as she poured the first cup.

"Please tell me that's coffee," Ivy said, her voice rough with sleep. She stood in the doorway, Julia's PRPD t-shirt hanging loose, hair tousled in a way that spoke of restless dreams.

"It's coffee," Julia confirmed, pouring a second cup. "Quality's questionable, but the caffeine's real."

Ivy crossed to the kitchenette, accepting the offered mug with both hands. "Thank you." She took a sip, nose wrinkling slightly. "You weren't kidding about the quality."

"Morgan will bring better supplies this morning."

"Along with my files, I hope." Ivy moved toward the window.

"Step away from the window, please."

"There's no one out there," Ivy said, though she complied.

"You don't know that." Julia gestured toward the sofa. "Let's establish some ground rules while we wait for Morgan."

They settled at opposite ends, the distance between them deliberately maintained.

"First," Julia began, "security protocols. Windows remain covered. No lights after dark unless necessary. Voices low, especially near windows."

"Sounds more like prison than protection," Ivy observed.

"Inconvenience beats the alternative." Julia continued, "Outside movement is restricted to essential needs only, and never alone. Any sign of surveillance or approach, we implement emergency protocols."

"Which are?"

"Secure position in the rear bedroom, which has reinforced walls and a concealed exit. I engage any hostiles while you extract to the secondary position we'll establish today."

Ivy's expression tightened. "You make it sound like combat."

"It is." Julia held her gaze steadily. "Knox doesn't send people to negotiate. He sends them to eliminate problems."

"And I'm the problem."

"Your testimony is," Julia corrected. "You're just the vehicle."

Ivy's fingers tightened around her mug. "Right. The witness isn't the mission; the testimony is. Is that what they teach you? How to view people as vessels for information?"

The criticism stung more than it should have. "It's about maintaining perspective. Emotional attachment compromises judgment."

"And we wouldn't want that," Ivy said softly, the words carrying weight.

Julia continued, "Second rule: communication protocols. Satellite phone for emergencies only. Text check-ins with Morgan at six-hour intervals, randomized to avoid pattern recognition."

"And if I need to contact my colleagues? Continue working on the case?"