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"Standard protocol for witness protection."

"Is that what I am to you? Just a witness?"

Julia's hands stilled on the dish she was drying. "You know it's not that simple."

"Actually, I don't know anything about what I am to you," Ivy replied, the words emerging with more edge than she'd intended. "You've been very careful not to clarify."

Before Julia could respond, her phone vibrated with a text. "Morgan. She's bringing supplies and your case files. Ten minutes out."

The moment fractured, reality rushing back to fill the space between them. Ivy nodded, stepping back to give Julia room to move. The conversation wasn't over, merely paused. The questions remained, hovering in the air between them, waiting for answers neither seemed ready to fully articulate.

A matter of time, Ivy thought, watching as Julia checked her weapon and moved toward the window. Just a matter of time.

Morgan delivered the supplies with characteristic efficiency, her sharp eyes taking in Ivy and Julia's proximity with barely concealed interest. She'd brought essentials: clothes, encrypted communications equipment, additional weaponry, and most importantly, Ivy's case files from her secure storage unit.

"The decoy was successful," Morgan reported, unloading the last bag onto Julia's kitchen counter. "Knox's people are searching the eastern quadrant. Chief Marten has three separate information streams running through the department to identify the leak."

Julia nodded, standing with arms crossed, weight balanced on the balls of her feet. "Updates on the cabin?"

"Clean sweep after you left. No sign they found the escape tunnel." Morgan's gaze shifted between them again, a question implicit in her eyes that she didn't voice. "I should get back."

The women exchanged a brief, loaded glance—the unspoken communication of partners who trusted each other implicitly. Then Morgan was gone, leaving Julia to secure the five separate locks on her door.

"Your partner's observant," Ivy noted, already examining the sealed evidence boxes Morgan had brought. "She suspects something."

"Morgan notices everything. It's what makes her good at her job," Julia replied without elaboration.

Ivy selected a box labeled “Seraphim Financial – Primary Evidence” and set it on the kitchen table. Inside were the original documents she'd been compiling for months: property records, shell company filings, and annotated financial transfers. She spread them across the table, immediately falling into the familiar rhythm of her work.

"This helps," she said, searching for a specific document. "The copies I brought to the cabin were incomplete."

Julia watched her from the kitchen doorway, something shifting in her expression as she observed Ivy in her professional element.

"You really do love this," Julia said softly, almost to herself. "The patterns. The hunt."

Ivy glanced up, surprised by the observation. "Like you don't love tracking suspects?"

"It's different." Julia approached the table, studying the complex financial diagrams Ivy had created. "I follow protocol. You follow intuition."

"I follow the money." Ivy tapped a property record. "Money never lies, even when people do. Every transaction tells a story—who paid whom, when, how much, throughwhat channels. Put enough stories together and the pattern emerges."

Julia leaned closer, eyes scanning the documents. "And Knox's pattern?"

"Arrogance." Ivy pulled out a map of Phoenix Ridge with red circles highlighting specific properties. "He believes his network is too complex to trace. But complexity creates vulnerability. More moving parts means more points of failure."

Their shoulders nearly touched as they bent over the map, the closest they'd been since the forest. Ivy was acutely aware of Julia's proximity—the clean scent of her skin, the measured rhythm of her breathing, the controlled energy she radiated even in stillness.

"You've created a complete profile," Julia observed, genuine admiration coloring her voice.

Ivy nodded. "Financial, psychological, and operational. Knox has built his identity around being untouchable. When that illusion shatters with my testimony..."

"He'll be dangerous," Julia finished the thought. "More dangerous than he already is."

"Yes." Ivy turned to face her, their bodies now inches apart. "That's why he wants me dead before I testify."

The stark words hung between them, reality intruding on what had momentarily felt like intellectual kinship. Julia stepped back, professional distance reasserting itself like a physical barrier.

"We should prepare for that eventuality," she said, voice reverting to its detached professional cadence.