I kneel beside his bed and place my hand gently on his shoulder. "Lucas. Wake up, baby."
He stirs, eyes fluttering open. Confused but not afraid. Not yet.
"Mom?"
"I need you to get dressed, okay? Quickly and quietly." I keep my voice calm, steady—the same voice I used in the compound when staying calm meant survival. "We might need to take a little trip."
"Why?" He sits up, rubbing his eyes. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. Mr. Stryker just wants to make sure we're ready in case we need to go somewhere safe." The lie comes easily, smoothly. "Can you do that for me? Get dressed and put on your shoes?"
Lucas nods, still half-asleep but trusting. Always trusting his mother to keep him safe.
I move to his window and peer through the blinds. Street looks empty from this angle, but my view is limited. Colton can see more from his position. Colton knows what to look for.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. A text from Colton:
Stand by. Vehicle stopped three houses down. Two occupants. I’m watching.
I type back with trembling fingers:
Lucas is getting dressed.
His response comes immediately:
Good. Stay calm. Might be nothing.
But it might be something. Might be Committee operatives closing in on the witness they need to eliminate. Might be the beginning of the nightmare I've been dreading since Colton walked back into our lives.
Lucas emerges from his closet wearing jeans and a hoodie, his sneakers in hand. "Are we going now?"
"Not yet. Just sit on your bed and wait for me to tell you, okay?"
He nods and settles on the edge of his mattress, shoes clutched in his lap. Waiting. Trusting. Believing his mother will protect him from whatever darkness is gathering outside.
I move back to the window, watching the street. Watching for headlights or movement or any sign that the people in that sedan are more than just neighbors coming home late.
My phone buzzes again:
False alarm. Just some teenager bringing his girlfriend home.
Relief makes my knees weak. I brace against the wall and force myself to breathe.
"Mom?" Lucas's voice is small. Scared now despite my efforts to keep him calm. "Are we okay?"
I turn and manage a smile. "We're fine, baby. Everything's fine. Mr. Stryker was just being careful."
"Because of the bad people?"
Question stops me cold. "What do you know about bad people?"
"I heard you talking earlier. About people looking for me." His eyes are too old for six. Too knowing. "Is it because of what I saw? At the grocery store when I went around back?"
My heart clenches. Martinez Grocery. Three weeks ago. I was inside on a work call that couldn't wait, told Lucas to stay right next to the cart. When I finished and turned around, he was gone. Found him two minutes later coming from the direction of the back alley, pale and shaking. He wouldn't tell me what was wrong. Just held my hand so tight it hurt all the way home.
I thought he'd seen a scary dog or a homeless person or something that startled him. Never imagined?—
God. I should have pressed harder. Should have made him tell me. Should have been watching him instead of taking that damn call.
