Krystal’s Point of View
The safehouse was quiet, too quiet.
Elias had rerouted us to a property nestled deep in the outskirts. Thick pine trees framed the icy landscape, the kind of place you couldn’t stumble across by accident. The air smelled of smoke and snow, and the silence buzzed like a wire strung too tight.
Colt hadn’t said a word since we arrived. He placed the briefcase on the heavy oak table in the middle of the cabin’s main room and stood over it like it was a loaded weapon. His jaw clenched and unclenched, the tension in his shoulders making him look like a storm in human form.
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes on the case. "You think what's in there is really that bad?"
He looked at me. "Worse."
Elias appeared in the doorway, tablet in hand, hair damp with
