Six months later, the safehouse wasn't a safehouse anymore.
It was home.
The reinforced doors were still there.
The security cameras still watched the perimeter.
But the constant tension was gone.
No emergency bags by the entrance.
No weapons spread across the kitchen table.
No countdowns.
No debts.
Just life.
The only thing occupying the counter now was Maya's sourdough starter and a stack of unpaid utility bills with my name on them.
For some reason, the bills made me happier.
They meant I existed.
Officially.
Legally.
Openly.
No aliases.
No fake identities.
No hiding.
I was Ava Morrow.
And for the first time in years, that felt like enough.
---
A knock sounded at the door.
One knock.
Then the door opened.
Naturally.
Kade stepped inside carrying a folder and an
