“I'm sorry,” I murmur under my breath, though I don't know who I'm apologizing to. The words hang in the air, unanswered. Maybe Luka. Maybe Hope. Maybe myself for becoming someone who sneaks and lies and manipulates. I never wanted to be this person.
When I finish, I carefully eject the USB drive, and the computer makes a soft chime as I disconnect it. I slide the drive into my bra, tucking it beneath the band so it lies flat against my skin. The metal is cold at first, foreign and uncomfortable, but the warmth of my body heats it quickly. I adjust my shirt, making sure nothing shows, no outline or bulge that might give me away.
The laptop closes with a soft click, and I return it to its exact position on the desk. I check everything twice, making sure the angle matches, that the distance from the edge is the same, and nothing looks disturbed. My palms leave faint marks on the polished wood surface, and I wipe them away quickly with the sleeve of my sleep shirt. I check the desk for any other sign of disturbance before rising.
My legs feel weak, my knees threatening to buckle, and my palms sweat as if I've run a marathon in silence. The adrenaline flooding my system makes everything feel too bright. I wipe my hands on my thighs, trying to dry them, but they remain damp and clammy.
I leave the office and close the door behind me, leaning back against it as my pulse races. The wood is solid against my spine. I shouldn't be breathing this hard over something so simple, but my lungs can't seem to get enough air.
I shouldn't be shaking like this. But I did it. The deed is done, and there's no taking it back. Now I have to get it out of the cabin without anyone noticing.
Footsteps echo upstairs, the sound of nails clicking against hardwood, and I look up quickly. Vega stands at the landing, ears perked forward, and his eyes fixed on me with an expression that feels too perceptive. Dogs are supposed to sense things, emotions, and intentions, and right now I feel completely transparent under his gaze.
“I know,” I whisper, my voice so soft I hardly hear it. “I'm working on it.”
He descends slowly and nudges my leg with his nose. The touch is gentle and reassuring. I stroke the top of his head with trembling fingers, my hand unsteady against his fur. His warmth seeps into my skin, providing comfort I don't deserve.
“Good boy,” I breathe, the words sticking in my throat. “You always know.”
My next challenge waits in the kitchen drawer where Luka stores mail supplies. I pull it open slowly, the wood sliding on its track with barely a whisper. Inside, I find a small, padded envelope tucked beneath a stack of plain white ones. My fingers shake as I peel the adhesive strip, the paper tearing slightly in my haste.
I wrap the USB in folded paper, stuff it in the center, wrap it carefully so it doesn't slide, then tape the edges for reinforcement. The tape sticks to my fingers, frustrating me, and I have to peel it off twice before getting it right. I address it the way Ray instructed, copying the information from memory, my handwriting shakier than usual.
It looks like any other business envelope. Maybe too neat, but it's close enough to pass without raising questions. I turn it over in my hands, examining it from every angle, searching for anything that might look suspicious. Nothing stands out. It's perfectly ordinary.
I pull out my phone and compose a quick text to Jenny, my thumbs moving across the screen easily.Hey, are you free this morning? I have a package that needs to go to the post office, and I'm stuck at the cabin. Could you swing by and drop it off for me?
Her response comes back almost immediately, three dots appearing before her message pops up.Of course! I don't have class until this afternoon. I can be there in about 30 minutes. Need anything else while I'm out?
Relief floods through me, loosening some of the tension in my shoulders.Just the package. Thank you so much.
No problem! See you soon.
I set the phone down on the counter and grip the envelope one last time before sliding it beneath a normal stack of mail, right where it looks like it belongs. Just another piece of outgoing correspondence in a pile of bills and letters.
Thirty minutes feels too long and not long enough. I pace the kitchen, my bare feet padding back and forth across the cool hardwood. Vega watches me from his spot near the hearth, his head tilting occasionally as if questioning my restless movement. I smooth my hair with one hand, tucking loose strands behind my ear. I adjust my shirt three times. I rearrange the mail stack twice to make sure the envelope looks natural.
Finally, a knock echoes at the front door, the sound cutting through the quiet cabin. My heart jerks into my throat, beating so hard I can feel it in my ears. Vega barks softly, as if announcing it, his tail wagging slightly.
A maid steps out from the hallway to answer the door. When she opens it, Jenny stands on the porch with a bright grin, bundled in an oversized knit sweater. The cream-colored fabric hangs past her hips, and she's paired it with dark jeans and boots. Her dark hair is pulled up in a loose bun, a few strands escaping to frame her face, and she waves lightly as she steps inside.
“Hey,” she greets, brushing the cold from her sleeves with quick movements. Her cheeks are pink from the outside air. “I told Albert I’d only be here two minutes, and I swear he smiled at me. At least I think he did. Hard to tell with him.”
I laugh softly while the maid closes the door behind her, sealing the cold outside. “That's impressive, honestly. He's not exactly the warm and welcoming type.”
Vega pads up with a lazy sway of his tail, his body language relaxed and friendly. Jenny bends to scratch behind his ears like she has at the café a hundred times, her fingers working through his thick fur. He nuzzles her hand, leaning into the touch, and her smile softens with genuine affection.
“He's the only reason I don't panic walking up the driveway,” she murmurs, giving him one final pat before straightening.
“Same,” I breathe and head toward the kitchen, Jenny’s footsteps falling in behind mine. Vega trots after her and leans into her hand when she reaches down. His tail sways in slow, happy arcs while I rest against the counter.
She straightens and looks around the kitchen, her eyes roaming over the details. “So, you mentioned a package?”
My fingers tighten slightly on the edge of the counter, gripping the smooth surface. I reach for the stack of mail and slide the padded envelope out from under it with what I hope is a calm, natural movement. My heart pounds, but I keep my expression neutral.
“This.” I lift it between us and hold it out. “Insurance stuff and some business records for Bean & Bloom. The timing on the claim is tight, and I don't know when I’ll be able to get into town. Can you drop it off at the post office while you're out?”
“Of course.” She steps closer and takes it without hesitation, tucking it under her arm like it's nothing important. The sight of it pressed to her side twists something in my chest, a mix of relief and dread. “I'm heading into town anyway. Want me to hand it over the counter or put it in the big drop box?”
