They sprinted through the warehouse district with visibility reduced to maybe ten feet. The fog was perfect cover if you knew how to use it properly.
Gabe led her through storage yards and cut between buildings. Her lungs burned and her legs screamed protest, but she didn't allow herself to slow down.
Finally Tom’s truck appeared through the mist exactly where they'd left it.
They dove inside and Gabe started the engine, pulling out fast but controlled. He kept the headlights off until they were two blocks away.
They drove in heavy silence broken only by engine noise and the rhythmic sweep of windshield wipers clearing condensation. When she realized their pursuers hadn’t given chase, she whispered a silent prayer of thanks.
Now that the adrenaline was fading, her hands shook. She pressed them flat against her thighs and tried to steady her breathing back to something that looked normal.
Gabe's knuckles were white on the steering wheel and his jaw worked like he was grinding teeth to powder. “No pursuit,” he mused. “I wonder why not?”
“They know who we are,” she answered immediately. Of course, they did. Which meant….
Gabe’s eyes widened. “Call Tom,” he ordered.
She had to hit the call button twice to make it happen. “We had visitors, but they’re not giving chase,” she said the minute Tom picked up. “Are Wade and Reagan––“
“All good.” He cut her off. “They’ll be back a few minutes after you.”
Gabe pounded a palm on the steering wheel. “Thank you, Lord.”
Cara told Tom they were about twenty minutes out and hung up.
While Gabe navigated the treacherous coastal highway, Cara replayed every moment of their break in in her head with sick certainty. Every skill she'd let show. She could feel him processing the evidence, building a case, assembling even more proof that Cara Sweet was not who she claimed to be.
The silence stretched between them, heavy and painful and inevitable.
She knew the conversation was coming. Her chest tightened with fear that had nothing to do with physical danger. Outside, the fog blurred the trees into ghosts.
Lord, I've shown him too much. He knows I'm lying now. He won't let this go because that's not who he is. Help me figure out what to say, what to do, how to protect everyone I care about. Including him. Especially him.
The burner phone sat in the cup holder between them like physical evidence of everything at stake. David's unsent message. Proof he'd been alive three weeks ago. Proof he'd been planning to meet someone who might know where he was now.
They had evidence and leads and a trail to follow forward.
But the cost to her was rising with every mile they drove.
The weight of exposure settled over her shoulders like a familiar coat. The certainty that tomorrow, maybe even tonight, Gabe would demand answers she couldn't give without destroying everything.
Haven Cove appeared through the fog with lights warm against the darkness. The rental cabin sat on the bluff overlooking the ocean, dark and isolated.
The place they'd been sharing since the bakery break-in, since Gabe had insisted she wasn't safe alone, since she'd agreed because arguing would have raised more questions than it answered.
Gabe pulled into the gravel driveway and cut the engine.
Silence crashed over them with crushing weight.
Cara reached for the door handle, needing to escape to the spare bedroom before he asked the question. Before she had to choose between more lies and the truth that would destroy everything she'd built.
"Cara."
His voice stopped her with her hand frozen on the handle and her heart hammering against her ribs.
She waited, unable to move forward or back.
"I know I've asked you before." His voice was quiet and steady and absolutely certain. "This time, I want a real answer."
