Chapter Thirty One
“Okay.” Bella pauses for a beat. “What if he tries?”
“Then we make a plan,” I say, and she exhales like I gave the only answer that matters.
When her breathing evens, I slide my hand from hers and sit up. I don’t turn on a lamp. I let the thin light through the shutters paint the room in light and think through careful brave again until the ideas arrange themselves into clean steps.
Plan A:
No more big doors until we have a second exit identified.
Map two service paths: kitchen delivery and laundry. If one closes, pivot.
Identify a neutral ally—not a guard, not a lieutenant. A staffer who flinches when I speak might not help me, but someone in this house notices things.
Plan B:
Objects that pass through wards easily: food trays, laundry carts, flower buckets. If
