The cabin was a gift we didn’t earn.
Somebody’s dead grandfather’s hunting lodge. Tucked in a fold of the Norwegian mountains where the satellites don’t bother looking. Liv knew about it. Old resistance safe house from before the project went completely dark. She said it hadn’t been used in years.
She wasn’t lying.
The place smelled like dust and mice. Mouse s**t in all the corners. A wood stove that probably hadn’t been lit since the 90s. Three small rooms. One toilet that groaned like a dying animal every time you pulled the chain.
It was the best place I’d ever slept.
We got the kids inside first. The portable cradles were heavy and awkward. Caiman carried two at once. Kenji carried the third like it was made of glass and he was scared he’d drop it.
We set them up in the biggest r
