"I don't trust easily," I said at last. "Occupational hazard."
Ellie nodded. "We know."
"But I'm trying," I added. The words felt like a peace offering, fragile but real.
Cam's eyes met mine, and I gave her the barest hint of a nod. It wasn't forgiveness I felt, not exactly. I wasn't sure I was ready for that. But standingthere—well, sitting there—with these women who'd known each other longer than I'd known some of my closest friends, I felt something loosen in my chest.
Maybe I didn't have to understand everything right now. Maybe I could just... be here. Let my ankle heal. Pet the kittens. Eat Ellie's cooking.
Maybe that was enough for today.
21
Sabine
I wished I’d broughtmy book downstairs, but I was unwilling to disturb the tiny grey kitten that had finally settled into sleep on my lap. Her whiskers twitched as she dreamed, her body impossibly small against my thigh. The morning sun slanted through the crack in the heavy drapes, painting stripes across the rug.
From the kitchen came the sounds of Ellie preparing coffee: the clink of mugs, the gurgle of water filling the reservoir, the grinding of beans. The scent would reach me soon, rich and comforting. It was becoming part of the team’s morning ritual that I could grow accustomed to in this strange limbo of protection.
Cam appeared in the doorway, her thick black hair tucked beneath a worn navy ballcap. She wore dark jeans and a plain t-shirt that did little to hide her muscular frame.
"I'm heading into town, El," she called out. "Need to get cat food and supplies."
Ellie leaned out from the kitchen. "Take the black SUV. Less conspicuous than the van.”
"Already planned on it." Cam nodded, checking her watch. "Kara's monitoring the feeds, Alex is on standby comms."
"Check in every thirty," Ellie reminded her.
"On the half-hour, I know." Cam pulled her keys from her pocket. "Standard route, no deviations."
I watched their exchange with fascination. They operated like a well-oiled machine, each word carrying weight and purpose. No wasted breath, no unnecessary elaboration. It reminded me of newsroom crisis coverage, but with higher stakes and better training.
Cam's eyes flicked to mine briefly, acknowledging my presence without warmth or hostility. Just assessment. Then she was gone, the front door closing with a soft click behind her.
The kitten stretched in her sleep, tiny claws extending into my jeans before retracting again.
"Breakfast?" Ellie called from the kitchen. "I've got fresh berries."
I hated to disturb the tiny kitten, but my stomach growled in response to Ellie's offer.
"Coming," I answered, scooping up the little grey ball of fur. She mewled in protest as I bent to place her in the cardboard box where her siblings tumbled over one another. Their calico mother watched me with suspicious yellow eyes as I lowered her baby into the pile.
"There you go, little one," I murmured. "Back to the family."
I pushed myself up from the wing chair, wincing as weight settled onto my right ankle. The sprain throbbed more now than it had earlier. I hobbled across the living room, pausing at the kitchen threshold to catch my breath.
Ellie stood at the stove, her back to me. Morning light caught the edges of her locs, which she'd gathered into a loose bun at the base of her neck. The soft cotton of her faded blue t-shirt stretched across her shoulders as she moved between pans, flipping something that smelled like cinnamon and butter.
"French toast," she said without turning around. "My grandmother's recipe."
I eased myself into a chair at the kitchen table. "Smells amazing."
"Secret ingredient is vanilla bean. Not extract." She glanced over her shoulder, her smile warm but professional. "Sleep okay?"
"Better than the night before," I admitted. In truth, I had read until my eyes wouldn't stay open a minute longer, unwilling to let the racing thoughts in my head take hold.
The calico mama cat slipped into the kitchen, winding between the table legs before settling near Ellie's feet. Her tail flicked lazily as she watched the cooking.
