DOMINIC
We'd tried fighting. We'd tried truth. Now we were just trying to survive.
The cabin sat three hours north of the city, buried in forest so thick the GPS lost signal two miles out. Jeremy had inherited it from his grandfather, a paranoid survivalist who'd wired the place like a bunker. Solar panels hidden under pine branches. Well water. No paper trail connecting it to any of us.
"This is insane," Maya said as we pulled up the gravel drive. Her voice was flat. Empty.
I killed the engine. "You have a better idea?"
She didn't answer. That was answer enough.
My shoulder throbbed as I carried our bags inside. The doctor had said six weeks minimum before full mobility returned. I'd barely made it two. The wound pulled with every movement, a constant reminder of how close we'd come
