How much longer can I hide this? My jeans are getting tighter, and soon I'll start showing. Each day bringing me closer to the moment when I'll have to tell Dante the truth.
I'm so lost in thought that I almost don't register the sound at first.
A loud crack, like a gunshot or an explosion, shatters the peaceful afternoon. Birds explode from nearby trees, and somewhere in the distance, a car alarm starts wailing.
Mila freezes, her eyes going wide with fear.
"Hannah?"
Training I didn't know I had kicks in. I scoop Mila up in my arms and ran, my heart hammering against my ribs. She's heavier than she looks, but adrenaline gives me strength I didn't know I possessed.
"Get to the panic room!" A guard appears from nowhere with his weapon drawn. "Now! Move!"
I don't ask questions. Don't hesitate. I just run.
The panic room is in the house's interior, a reinforced space Dante showed me during my first week here. At the time, I thought it was excessive—paranoid, even. Now I'm grateful for his paranoia.
Mila buries her face in my neck, her small body trembling. "I'm scared."
"I know, baby. I know." I hold her tighter, my feet pounding against the stone path, then the hardwood floor as we enter the house. "But we're going to be okay. Your papa made sure of that."
The guard shepherds us through hallway. His urgency makes my own panic spike higher. What's happening? Is someone attacking? Are we under siege? If he’s scared, I just know I should be terrified.
The panic room door is already open when we reach it, another guard standing sentry with his weapon ready. The space is smaller than I remember, all steel walls and emergency supplies, a bunker designed to withstand whatever threatens from outside.
"Inside," the guard says, ushering us in. "Lock it behind you. Don't open for anyone except Mr. Sokolov or someone with the correct code."
"Wait—what's happening?"
But he's already closing the door, the heavy steel swinging shut with a finality that makes my stomach drop. The lock engages with a series of clicks and thuds, and suddenly we're sealed in.
Silence presses in, broken only by Mila's quiet whimpers and my own ragged breathing.
"It's okay," I tell her. "We're safe here. Your papa made sure we're safe."
"I want Papa," she whispers.
"I know. He'll come get us soon."
The panic room is equipped with everything we might need for an extended stay—water, food, medical supplies, even toys for Mila. But right now, all I can focus on is the monitor mounted on the wall, showing different views of the estate grounds.
I can't see any attackers. No breached walls, no armed intruders. Just guards moving with their weapons drawn, searching for threats that I can’t see.
I stare at the screen for what feels like hours.
A speaker crackles to life, and Dante's voice fills the small space. "Hannah. Mila. You're safe. Stay where you are until I come for you."
"Papa!" Mila jumps up, looking around for the source of his voice.
"The speaker, sweetheart," I tell her. "He can hear us."
"Papa, I'm scared!"
"I know,milaya. But Hannah is with you, and you're in the safest place in the house. I'll be there soon."
The connection cuts off, leaving us in silence again. I walk away from the screen. I trust Dante, which is a weird feeling. I sit down and relax for a minute. I don’t have to be vigilant. Dante has it handled.
Mila climbs into my lap, curling against me like she's trying to disappear into my embrace. I stroke her hair and murmur reassurances I don't fully believe, my mind racing through terrible possibilities.
