The safe house buzzed with quiet determination the next morning. The weight of their mission was etched on everyone’s faces, but there was also a newfound sense of resolve. Claire could feel it in the air, the way everyone moved with purpose. She herself felt lighter, more centered—though she wasn’t sure if it was the clarity of their plan or the memory of John’s kiss still lingering on her lips.
Margaret shuffled through a stack of papers at the table while Ethan tinkered with a small device, his focus unshaken. Claire glanced at John, who was standing by the window, his arms crossed as he stared out at the snow-covered forest. He was calm and composed, but she could sense the tension in his shoulders.
“Anything unusual?” she asked, walking over to him.
“Not yet,” he replied, his gaze
