But we don't relax. Can't afford to.
Vivian throws herself into trial preparation with renewed focus. She's not hiding from the fear anymore, she's channeling it. Every hour she spends reviewing testimony is an hour spent fighting back against the people who want her silenced.
We train together, harder than before. She's moved past the basics now, into advanced techniques that require speed and precision. I push her, and she pushes back, and by the end of each session we're both sweating and breathing hard.
At night, we still share a bed. But now there's a new quality to our intimacy—an urgency that wasn't there before. We make love like we're running out of time, desperate and hungry, and afterward we hold each other in the darkness and don't talk about what might be coming.
On the third morning, she finds me on the porch, watching the sunrise with a cup of coffee in my hands.
"You actually slept last night," she says, sitting beside me.
"A few hours."
"Progress." She takes the coffee from my hands and drinks from it. "Any news?"
"Mace called while you were in the shower. Carver confirmed he didn't know about the Nevada transfer. Taylor really did keep him completely out of the loop."
She goes still. "So they don't know where I am?"
"They don't know where you are."
The breath she releases is shaky with relief. "Oh god. Okay. Okay, that's good."
"It doesn't mean we can let our guard down. They're still looking. They won't stop until the trial is over."
"I know. But at least we have time." She leans against me, her head on my shoulder. "Time to prepare. Time to be ready."
"Time to be together."
She looks up at me, and for the first time in days, her smile reaches her eyes. "That too."
We sit on the porch and watch the sun climb over the mountains, painting the snow in shades of gold and pink. For this moment, at least, the danger feels distant. Manageable.
I know it won't last. The trial is still coming. The Castellanos are still out there. Sooner or later, we'll have to face whatever they're planning.
But right now, with Vivian warm against my side and the morning light spilling across our mountain, I let myself believe that we might actually make it through this.
Together.
CHAPTER TEN
DECK
The sensor alarm wakes me at 2:47 AM.
I'm out of bed before the second beep, my hand closing around the Glock on the nightstand. Vivian stirs beside me, and I press my palm to her shoulder.
"Stay down. Don't move."
I grab my tablet and check the perimeter feed. Eastern sensor. The ravine approach I showed her two weeks ago. The one I said they'd use if they came.
Three heat signatures. Moving in tactical formation.
My blood goes cold.
"Get dressed." I keep my voice low and even. "Dark clothes. Boots. Go bag. You have sixty seconds."
She doesn't ask questions. Doesn't waste time with fear. She's out of bed and moving before I finish speaking, and the pride I feel is immediately swallowed by dread.
