Page 14 of Revival in Laurel Valley

“What kind of basics?” she asked.

He turned from the window. “If we get separated. If something goes wrong. You need to know what to do.”

The seriousness in his voice sent a chill down her spine. “You think we’ll get separated?”

“I think we need to be prepared for anything.” He moved to sit on the coffee table, close enough that their knees almost touched. “The cabin is about forty miles from here. Remote, off grid. Colt texted me the coordinates. If anything happens on the way there—if we have to run, if we get split up—you head north until you hit Forgiveness River, then follow it upstream. The cabin’s about three miles past where the river forks.”

Liza tried to commit it to memory. “North. River. Fork. Three miles.”

“Good.” His voice was steady, reassuring. “If I tell you to run, you run. Don’t look back, don’t try to be a hero. Just get to safety.”

“What about you?”

“I can take care of myself.” But the way he said it made her think he’d done exactly that for most of his life.

“Grant—”

A sound outside made them both freeze. A scraping noise, like something moving against the building.

Grant was on his feet instantly, weapon in his hand. When had he grabbed that? Liza hadn’t even seen him move.

He motioned for her to stay down, then moved silently to the window. The tension in his shoulders was unmistakable.

Liza’s heart hammered against her ribs. Was it Caine? Had she come back to finish what she’d started?

Grant peered out carefully, then his shoulders relaxed. A moment later, he holstered the weapon.

“Cat,” he said, turning back to her. “Just a cat on the fire escape.”

Liza let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “Good grief. My heart is still racing.”

Grant moved back to the coffee table, but this time he sat closer. Close enough that she could feel the heat of him, smell the faint scent of gunpowder and pine that clung to his clothes.

“This is what it’s going to be like,” he said quietly. “Every sound, every shadow—we have to assume it’s her until we know it’s not.”

“How do you live like that?”

“You get used to it.” But the way he said it made her think he’d never really gotten used to it at all.

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of what lay ahead settling over them like a blanket.

“Tell me something good,” Liza said suddenly. “Something that has nothing to do with shootings or death threats or crazy ex-cops.”

Grant looked at her in surprise. “What?”

“Something good. A happy memory. Your favorite place. Anything.” She needed something to hold on to, something to remind her that the world was more than just fear and violence.

He was quiet for a long moment, and she thought he might not answer. Then his expression softened.

“When I was a kid, I used to spend summers here,” he said. “My parents would send me to stay with my uncle’s family. Blaze and I became friends—he taught me to fish, to ride, to navigate the mountains.” A smile touched his lips. “There was this spot by Forgiveness River where the water runs clear and cold over smooth rocks. We’d spend hours there, just…being kids. No responsibilities, no worries. Just the sound of the water and the mountains all around us.”

Liza could picture it—a younger Grant, before the job and the betrayals and the scars. “Do you ever go back there?”

“Haven’t in twenty-five years.” He looked at her. “Maybe after this is over, I will.”

The way he said it—like he was making plans for a future that might not exist—made her chest tight.

“I’d like that,” she said softly. “After this is over, I mean. I’d like to see it.”