The safe house sat low on a wooded hillside, its walls thick and unassuming. Inside, the residual scent of fresh paint still clung to the plaster. Celeste pressed her back against the cool wall of the kitchen, hands wrapped around her son's small shoulders. Noah clutched his favorite stuffed fox and perched on a stool too tall for him. He stared at the half-open fridge, eyes wide and uncertain.
Adrian moved between the counters with deliberate calm. He sorted through the contents of a duffel bag Carmen had unpacked: bottled water, granola bars, and a change of clothes for Noah and Celeste. He folded each item with purpose. He laid them on the table.
"I'll take him upstairs," Adrian said, lifting Noah down. He reached for the duffel and nodded to Celeste. "You can finish here."
She bit her lip and nodded. She had no appetite but knew she needed strength. She poured two glasses of water and handed one to Carmen, who lingered by the doorway.
"I checked the perimeter," Carmen said in a low voice. "No one has followed us yet."
Celeste exhaled, tension fading slightly. She placed her glass on the counter and turned to Adrian. She watched him step toward the stairwell, Noah in his arms. His shoulders were broad enough to shield both their worlds.
From upstairs, she heard a small footstep and a soft, familiar voice. "Daddy?"
Adrian's voice answered warmly: "Hey, champ. How are my two brave girls?"
Celeste closed her eyes, grateful for that sound. She rested her forehead against the cool tile and whispered to the empty kitchen, "We'll be safe." Then she looked at Carmen. "Thank you."
Carmen offered a small half-smile. "I'll stay until you're settled." She crossed her arms. "Then I'll let you two have your space."
Celeste nodded. Her gaze drifted to the cracked window above the sink. Night had deepened outside. The trees whispered against the glass. She sipped her water and caught herself when she noticed the faintest echo of movement beyond the frosted pane.
She set the glass down. Her pulse quickened. She pressed her palm against the counter. She whispered, "Carmen."
Carmen stepped closer. "What is it?"
Celeste pointed at the window. Carmen followed her finger. Shadows shifted between the trees. A figure moved slowly.
"Stay here," Carmen instructed. She moved silently toward the window and peered through. Her breath caught.
Celeste stepped beside her, heart in her throat. Behind the glass, a man stood just beyond the garden lights. He held a flashlight, its beam sweeping the yard. His body is stiff. Her breath hitched.
"Adrian," Celeste whispered.
"He's alone," Carmen replied. "No limos. No backup." She clenched her jaw. "What should I do?"
Celeste clenched her fists. She forced herce to be steady. "Alert Adrian. Tell him to come down."
Carmen nodded. She slipped away. Celeste leaned close to the window until her breath fogged the pane. She saw Adrian move down the stairs, his dark silhouette outlined by the stairwell light. He reached the kitchen doorway and paused, hand on the frame, before he saw her.
His eyes locked on her. He crossed the room two steps at a time and pulled her into his arms. Her head rested against his chest. She felt his heartbeat.
He whispered against her ear, "Stay here."
She buried her face in his shirt. He laid a hand on her shoulder, then turned from her and crossed to the window. He edged the curtain aside and stared at the stranger, motionless.
Bianca's voice floated in the night air—taunting and cold: "You thought you could hide from me."
Adrian's jaw tightened. He turned. "Stay back."
Celeste stepped forward, freezing at his command. She watched as Bianca stepped into the garden light. Her dress shimmered white against the dark pines. She held another envelope in one hand, an identical twin to the first. In the other, a cell phone.
"Keep up," Bianca said, her voice dripping with scorn. "Every move you make goes through me."
Adrian pulled the curtain shut and locked it. He turned and reached for his jacket on a nearby chair. He pulled it on and ran a hand through his hair. His gaze found Celeste.
"We go now," he said. He grabbed her hand. "Take Noah and leave. I'll deal with her."
Fear knotted in her stomach. She shook her head. "Not without you."
His eyes softened but remained firm. "You and Noah go to the car. I'll follow."
The desperation in his voice gave her no choice. She turned and rushed to the hallway. She found Noah standing at the end, eyes wide. He held his fox tight.
"Come on, pumpkin," she said softly. She scooped him into her arms. His legs wrapped around her waist. She felt the rhythm of his breathing. She kissed his temple. "We're going on a drive."
Noah nodded. He buried his face against her neck.
Together, they filed out the front door, passing Carmen, who nodded and slipped outside. Celeste closed the door carefully, then dashed across the porch to the car.
She fumbled with the lock, hands shaking until the click sounded. She opened the back door and settled Noah into his car seat. He wrapped his arms around the fox and pressed his cheek against the window.
Celeste climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. She glanced at Noah in the rearview mirror. "I'll be back soon," she whispered.
Noah's eyes met hers. He gave a small nod.
Celeste shifted into drive and rolled down the driveway. The gravel crunched under the tires. The engine's hum contrasted with the pounding of her heart.
Behind her, through the front window, she saw Bianca appear on the porch. She raised her phone. A flash lit her face. She snapped a photo.
Celeste swallowed. She hit the gas. The car lurched forward.
As they sped down the road, Celeste glanced at Bianca's silhouette in the rearview mirror, standing motionless under the porch light.
Her chest tightened.
Ahead, the dark road stretched into the forest. Rain clouds rolled over the moon, blurring the trees into ink strokes.
She prayed the safe house would hold.
She prayed they would survive the night.
And she prayed she could protect her son from the price of silence.