Even if it killed me.
37
Wolf
We didn’t stay in the bunker.
Not after what just happened.
Not after what Nora remembered.
Saint shut the feeds down and looped false signals through the sheriff’s system, making it look like Nora had been transferred to the county hospital.
She hadn’t.
We moved her underground routes — old service tunnels beneath Eagle River most people didn’t even know existed. Havoc led point. Trigger took rear. Sheriff Tate sealed everything behind us like a man already planning arrests.
And me?
I never let go of Nora’s hand.
She walked beside me in silence, steps steady, head high — but I could feel the tension in her fingers, the way she squeezed whenever a shadow shifted or metal creaked overhead.
When the door finally opened, we stepped into a place so quiet it felt unreal.
A safehouse.
Not fancy.
Not obvious.
Concrete walls disguised behind a renovated old fishing lodge on the outskirts of town. Remote. Locked down. Shielded.
Havoc swept it first.
Trigger checked every window.
Saint jammed signals and sealed comms.
Only when I was certain—absolutely certain—did I turn back to Nora.
“You’re safe here,” I said.
Her eyes searched mine. “For how long?”
“As long as I breathe.”
She nodded once. That was all she needed.
Nora
The lodge smelled like pine and cold stone.
It should’ve felt peaceful.
But my head wouldn’t stop spinning.
Images flickered behind my eyes — broken, blurred, incomplete.
