"Safe location?" she asked, her voice small but steady. "What's going on?"
I exchanged a glance with Elin, who nodded slightly. “It’s ready.”
"We're moving you tomorrow," I told her, crossing the room to take her hands. "Things have accelerated. Juarez is planning to take you on Friday—no wedding, just . . ." I couldn't finish the sentence.
Rhea's face paled, but she squared her shoulders and stood a little taller. "Where are we going?"
"Not we," Elin said, standing up. "Just you. I have a place where you'll be safe until your new identity is ready. And not lake house safe. Not my safe room. Somewhere you can be comfortable and almost forget where you are."
"Where is it?" Rhea asked, looking between us. "Some cabin in the woods? Another city?"
Elin shook her head. "I can't tell you that. Not yet. The fewer people who know, the safer you'll be."
"But Gav knows, right?" Rhea turned to me, eyes pleading.
"No," I admitted. "I don't know either. That's how we're keeping you safe."
Rhea's eyes widened. "No offense, Elin, but Gav, you trust her with—"
"With my life," I said firmly. "Which means I trust her with yours."
Elin moved closer, her presence somehow both commanding and comforting. "No one knows about this place. Not your brother, not anyone who might be connected to either of your worlds. And I'll never tell, Rhea. No matter what."
“What happens if Father kills you?”
Elin let out a harsh breath. “If you don’t hear from me in a month—” I put my hand up when her eyes went wide. “You can call Gavriel from a secure phone in the house. For the record, you can stay there for six months or longer depending on how much you eat. It’s hooked to water and sewer. It was built to have someone disappear for a long while.”
Rhea studied her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "When do we leave?"
"Dawn," I said. "Pack light. One bag, essentials only."
"This is really happening," Rhea whispered, more to herself than to us. "I'm just . . . disappearing."
The weight of what we were doing settled over the room. My sister would vanish, become someone else entirely. Claire Maddox, an accountant from Phoenix. No more Rhea Azzaro. No more family dinners. No more late-night talks about books and dreams.
"We should make tonight count," Elin said suddenly, breaking the somber mood. "If tomorrow starts a new chapter, let's close this one properly."
Rhea looked up, confusion replacing fear for a moment. "What do you mean?"
"Movie night," Elin declared. "Your choice. All those terrible romantic comedies you love."
A smile tugged at the corner of Rhea's mouth. "Even the one with the talking dog that Gav hates?"
"Especially that one," Elin said, shooting me a challenging look.
I groaned dramatically, but inside relief washed through me. One last normal night before everything changed.
"Fine," I conceded. "But I'm making the popcorn. Elin burns it every time."
"I do not," Elin protested. "I enhance the flavor profile."
Rhea actually laughed, the sound so wholesome it made my chest ache. "You do burn it," she told Elin. "It's charcoal with salt."
I headed toward the kitchen, listening to them bicker good-naturedly behind me. As I pulled out the popcorn and set the pot on the stove, I realized just how out of control I felt. Not from fear, but from the weight of what was coming. Tomorrow, I'd saygoodbye to my sister, possibly forever. I'd send her away with only Elin knowing where, trusting that my Goddess could keep her safe when I couldn't.
My thoughts kept circling around how I was a failure, but was I really? I was helping Rhea get to safety. I was making sure she was not going to be in Juarez’s hands. I found myself staring out the window as the oil began to heat in the pot. When it sputtered, I dropped in a test kernel and watched it spin in the golden liquid. In two days, Juarez would come looking for his bride and find nothing. My father would rage, demanding answers. The fragile peace between our families would shatter.
And I would be caught in the middle, playing both sides until Rhea was safely away with her new identity.
