She turns from the window, and in the firelight her face looks younger. Less hunted. "You think we have time to rest?"
"I think we make time. Because going into what's coming exhausted is how mistakes happen." I cross to her, pull her away from the window. "Whatever we're facing, we face it ready."
She relaxes against me, and the tension leaves her body. Years of holding herself rigid against danger, and she's finally allowing herself to lean on someone else.
"I'm scared," she admits.
"Good. Fear keeps you sharp. Just don't let it run the show."
"What if bringing in the task force and surrendering to them is a mistake?"
"Then we deal with it. We're in this now, both of us." I tighten my arms around her. "But Cara? Running hasn't gotten you closer to justice. Maybe it's time to try something different."
She's quiet, and I feel her breathing, slow and steady. Outside, wind howls around the cabin walls. Inside, the fire crackles and throws dancing shadows across the ceiling.
"Okay," she says. "I'll consider it. Going in voluntarily instead of waiting for marshals to take the choice away."
"That's all I'm asking. Consider it."
We stay like that for a while, holding each other in front of the fire while snow batters the windows and darkness settles over the mountains. Tomorrow brings decisions and danger and the possibility that everything we're building could collapse. But tonight, there's just this moment. This warmth. This fragile trust that maybe standing together is stronger than running alone.
Later, lying in bed with Cara curled against me, I stare at the ceiling and think about what's coming. About the feds, corrupt officials and the very real possibility that this gamble could costus everything. About the woman in my arms who's spent years fighting alone and is finally letting people stand with her.
Years of flying into combat zones taught me to read danger in the way clouds formed over mountains, in the shift of wind patterns, in the silence before incoming fire. Know what it looks like when a situation is about to go critical, when choices narrow to survival or sacrifice.
The woman in my arms carries blame that isn't hers, investigates alone because she's afraid to put others at risk, chose to stay and fight when running would have been safer.
She's worth the risk. Worth the danger of harboring a federal fugitive. Worth standing between her and anyone who tries to take her down.
Outside, wind carries fresh snow against the windows. Somewhere out there, people are hunting her. People with resources and power and the weight of federal authority behind them. But they'll have to go through me first. Through Zeke and Sadie and the whole community of people who've learned that sometimes the right choice means standing against the system instead of within it.
I pull Cara closer and make a silent promise to the darkness. When the feds arrive, when the Marshal's people come hunting, when the system she once served turns its full weight against her, they'll find more than a fugitive hiding in the woods. They'll find someone who's stopped running. Someone who's chosen to stand and fight. And they'll find a community that doesn't surrender its own.
9
CARA
Morning light filters through gaps in the curtains, painting stripes across Finn's bedroom floor. I wake slowly, awareness returning in layers. The weight of his arm across my waist. The steady rhythm of his breathing against my neck. The warmth of his body pressed along my back.
For a moment, I just lie there. Let myself have this. The simple comfort of not being alone.
Then reality reasserts itself. Evidence cases stacked by the door. Jake's warnings about the feds closing in. The decision I made last night to stay and fight instead of run.
Finn stirs behind me, his arm tightening before he fully wakes. "Morning."
"Morning." I turn in his arms to face him. Sleep has softened the sharp edges of worry, left him looking younger. More at peace than I've seen him. "Sleep okay?"
"Better than I have in months." He brushes hair back from my face. "You?"
"Yeah. Actually yeah."
We lie there for another few minutes, neither of us wanting to break the moment. But eventually practical concerns win out.We need to set up perimeter security. Establish communication protocols. Prepare for what's coming.
I slip out of bed first, gathering my clothes from where they ended up scattered across the floor last night. Finn watches me dress with appreciation that makes my skin warm despite the morning chill.
"Coffee?" he offers.
"God, yes."
