Page 67 of Damon

We spend the night at the cabin, taking turns keeping watch while the other sleeps. My arm throbs steadily, but Viviana's stitches hold. By dawn, I know we can't stay here much longer. We’re too exposed, too far from backup if the Vergas track us down.

I pull out my encrypted phone and dial Tommy's number.

"Boss? Where the hell are you? We've been trying to reach you since the attack."

"Safe house one is compromised. We're at the cabin. Need immediate extraction and medical supplies."

"Copy that. Sending a team now. ETA forty minutes."

"Make sure they're not followed."

"Already running counter-surveillance. You hurt?"

I glance at Viviana, who's dozed off on the couch despite trying to stay alert. "Nothing fatal. But we need a new location. Somewhere more secure."

"Got just the place. Safe house two, up north by the lake. Fully stocked, better security system."

"Good. And Tommy? This goes nowhere near the family. Just us."

A pause. "Understood, boss."

Almost an hour later, I hear the low rumble of engines approaching. Two black SUVs emerge from the tree line, Tommy in the lead vehicle with Timo and Enea, the second car carrying medical supplies and tactical gear.

"Time to go," I tell Viviana, helping her gather our few belongings.

She looks back at the cabin as we climb into Tommy's SUV. "Think we'll ever come back here?"

"No, we won’t," I say, settling beside her as Tommy pulls away. "But it served its purpose."

"What was its purpose?"

I think about our conversation by the fire, about the choice she's asking me to make, about the future that seems both impossible and inevitable.

"It kept us alive long enough to figure out what comes next."

The drive to the next safe house takes two hours through back roads and forest paths that don't appear on any map. By the time we arrive, I've made my decision.

Whatever it costs, whatever it takes, I'm done running from what this is.

Chapter 20: Viviana

The new safe house is nothing like the hunting cabin.

Three bedrooms, a full kitchen, floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over a private lake. It's the kind of place where you could forget the outside world exists, where you could pretend you're a normal couple on vacation instead of two people hiding from assassins.

"Much better," I say.

Damon checks the security panel by the front door. "Tommy swept it twice. Motion sensors, cameras, the works. We should be safe here for a while."

"How long is a while?"

"Long enough to figure out our next move."

I notice he's saying "our" now instead of "my."

"And what is our next move?"

He turns from the security panel, and there's something different in his expression. More settled, more certain than he was at the cabin.