I don't have a response to that. She's right. We both know she's right.
"What do you want me to do?" I ask. "Tell you I'll put myself first? I can't make that promise."
"I know you can't. I'm not asking you to." She leans her forehead against mine. "I'm just asking you to remember that your life matters too. That I need you to survive this, not just me."
"I'll do my best."
"That's all I'm asking."
We sit there in the early morning darkness, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of us. Outside, the first gray light of dawn is beginning to creep over the mountains.
"What do we do now?" she asks.
"We stay vigilant. We don't assume we're safe, but we don't panic either. If the Castellanos knew where we were, they'd have moved by now."
"You said that before. About them not waiting."
"It's true. They throw resources at problems. If they had our location, we'd already be fighting."
"So the fact that we're not fighting means we're probably okay?"
"Probably. Not definitely." I stand and offer her my hand. "Come on. Neither of us is going back to sleep. I'll make coffee, and we'll go over the contingency plans again."
She takes my hand and lets me pull her up. "I already know the contingency plans."
"Then we'll go over them until you could execute them blindfolded."
"That's overkill."
"That's preparation. There's a difference."
She manages a small smile. "You and your differences."
I lead her to the kitchen and start the percolator. She sits at the table, watching me move through the familiar routine, and slowly the tension in her body begins to ease.
"I'm glad I told you about Carver," she says quietly. "About my suspicions. Even though I wasn't sure, even though I thought I might be imagining things. I'm glad I didn't keep it to myself."
"Why?"
"Because you believed me. You didn't tell me I was being paranoid or that I should trust the system. You took my concerns seriously." She meets my eyes. "No one's done that before. Not about this. Everyone kept telling me I was safe, that the marshals had it handled, that I should just focus on my testimony and let the professionals do their jobs."
"The professionals failed you."
"They did. But you haven't." She reaches across the table and takes my hand. "Whatever happens next, I want you to know that. You haven't failed me, Deck. Not once."
The words hit me harder than I expect. For years, all I've carried is the weight of the people I couldn't save. The names and faces that haunt my nightmares. And here's this woman, this fierce, brilliant, stubborn woman, telling me that I haven't failed her.
It doesn't erase the past. Nothing can erase the past. But it makes the future feel possible in a way it hasn't in a very long time.
"I won't fail you," I say. "Whatever it takes. I won't fail you."
"I know." She squeezes my hand. "That's why I love you."
The next twodays pass in tense vigilance.
Mace calls with updates that tell us Carver is finally starting to crack. The interrogators have leveraged his family, threatened prosecution for accessory to murder, laid out exactly how many years he'll spend in federal prison if he doesn't cooperate. Slowly, he's giving up names and dates and details.
So far, nothing about Guardian Peak. Nothing about Nevada. Nothing that suggests he knew where Vivian was taken after Sacramento.
