They made camp in the old trees.
Not the safe house. Not anywhere with walls that could be mapped and reported. Liam chose a hollow in the forest floor where three massive pines had grown so close together their roots had built something like a room, low-ceilinged and concealed on three sides, the kind of place that did not exist on any map because it had never needed to.
Anya Reeve knew it.
She had led them to it without being asked, moving through the trees with that pattern-reading instinct of hers, stopping at the hollow's edge and looking at Liam with the expression of someone presenting work they were not sure would be accepted.
He had looked at it and looked at her and said, "How many places like this do you know."
She had said, "In this section of territory? Fourteen."
He had
