Geirolf's expression darkens. "We move fast. The traffickers know we're coming now. They'll try to relocate their operation, move their next shipment early. We're planning a raid—probably Thursday, maybe sooner."
"How dangerous is it?"
He's quiet for a long moment.
"Dangerous enough. These people are desperate, armed, and they've got nothing to lose. But we're prepared. We've handled worse."
"Will Gunnar—" I can barely say it. "Will he be part of the raid?"
"Yeah. He volunteered. Wouldn't take no for an answer." Geirolf leans forward again. "But Ingrid, listen to me. Gunnar'sgood at this. He's been trained, he's smart, and he doesn't take unnecessary risks. He'll come home."
"You can't know that."
"No. I can't." He glances at Astrid. "None of us can. That's the reality of club life. We do dangerous things because someone has to. And the women who love us learn to trust that we'll come home."
"How?" I look at my sister. "How do you deal with it? Knowing Geirolf's out there doing things that could get him killed?"
"I trust him," Astrid says simply. "I trust his skills, the brothers, and the fact that he wants to come home to me as much as I want him here. And on the days when trust isn't enough, I let myself be scared. I cry. I rage. And then I pull myself together and wait. Because that's what we do—we're strong enough to let them be strong."
"I don't know if I'm that strong."
"You are. You're our father’s daughter. Our mother’s daughter. Strength is in your blood." She squeezes my hand. "And you're braver than you think. You've survived everything life's thrown at you. You can survive loving a man who does dangerous things."
My phone buzzes.
Text from Gunnar:
Can I see you? Need to see you.
My heart lurches.
"That's him, isn't it?" Astrid asks.
I nod.
"Then go. Be with him. Stop running."
"But what if?—"
"What if it works?" She cuts me off. "What if you let yourself be happy? What if you stop protecting yourself from pain andstart reaching for joy? What if this is the real thing and you almost missed it because you were too scared to try?"
I stare at my phone.
At Gunnar's message.
At the choice in front of me.
Keep running, keep protecting myself, keep being small and scared and alone.
Or be brave.
One more time.
One last time.
I type back:
Yes. Where?
