They asked about the flight. About the weather in Charleston. About whether Canadians in the U.S. still got teased about saying “sorry” too much.
Levi handled it with the same calm competence he took into war rooms. He told stories that were true but curated—about the food in Charleston, about the humor that comes from putting a bunch of ex-military brothers in the same kitchen, about how unnerving it was to learn he had a whole other set of siblings hidden on the other side of the country.
He didn’t mention abductions, or zip ties, or older women with raspy voices and vendettas. He didn’t mention The Vanguard.
He didn’t need to. The danger hummed under my skin like a low-grade fever. It was part of us now, woven into every conversation between the lines.
At one point, Mom set down a basket of bread with a sigh.
“Every time I turn on the news and there’s some political crisis or explosion overseas, I think, ‘Is my daughter walking toward that?’” she said. “Now I have to worry about secret fortresses and shadow organizations, too?”
“Mom,” I said gently. “We talked about the fortress. It’s mostly sunrooms and coffee and Levi doing pushups.”
Dad took a sip of his wine. “So, this place—Dominion Hall,” he said. “You’re really moving in there? Permanently?”
“Not permanently,” I said. “Not yet. We’re taking a suite for now. It’s basically an apartment. Kitchenette, sitting room, the works. It’s down the hall from Levi’s brothers and their partners.”
“Communal living for the rich and paranoid,” Mom said dryly. “I suppose there are worse things.”
Levi smiled faintly. “It’s secure,” he said, voice steady. “As secure as anywhere can be when powerful people are trying to make you disappear. For now, it’s the safest place for Amelia to be. For all of us.”
Mom and Dad exchanged a look over the table. Decades of shared code passed between them in half a second.
“I don’t like the idea of anyone trying to make my daughter disappear,” Mom said, eyes sharp. “But I like the idea of her facing it without a roof like that over her head even less.”
Dad nodded. “You both do what you need to to stay alive,” he said. “If that means hunkering down in a billionaire compoundfor a while …” He shrugged. “We’ve seen stranger things in the papers.”
“Plus,” I added, trying to soften the edges, “at some point, once things settle, we want to build something of our own. Still near the family, but … separate. A house that’s ours. Maybe in Montana for summers, Charleston the rest of the year. Somewhere with a kitchen big enough for Mom to come take it over when she visits.”
Mom’s eyes softened. “You’re really thinking about that?” she asked. “Houses. Future. Seasons.”
I met her gaze. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “I am.”
Her hand came across the table, fingertips brushing my wrist in a brief, wordlessI’m happy for you.
The rest of the evening was easier.
Dad told Levi embarrassing stories about my childhood—like the time I’d fact-checked a teacher’s lesson plan and brought printouts to class. Levi looked delighted.
Mom dragged me into the kitchen under the pretense of needing help with dishes and promptly whispered, “He’s handsome and his eyes are so soft on you. Don’t screw this up.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” I whispered back.
By the time we’d finished dessert and more wine than I usually drank on a weeknight, the house felt smaller in a good way. Like it had stretched to fit Levi without breaking. Like something fundamental had shifted and then re-settle into a new shape.
“Go on,” Mom said, shooing us toward the back door. “Take him to the lake before his blood fully congeals in this Canadian cold.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how blood works,” Dad said mildly.
“It’s a metaphor,” she shot back. “Honestly.”
Levi slipped his hand into mine as we stepped out into the night.
It was darker than Charleston, the sky sharper. Fewer streetlights, fewer people, more stars. Snow squeaked under our feet as we followed the familiar path between the neighbor’s fence and the stand of scraggly pines that led down toward the water.
“Was that good?” Levi asked after a while.
“Surprisingly,” I said. “I thought Mom might grill you about your intentions or something.”
