Chapter Eighty-One
The quiet peace of the safehouse held for two days. By the third night, it shattered—not from an external threat, but from the weight of what I had been keeping hidden.
Jake was fast asleep, his heavy arm draped over my waist, his deep, steady breathing filling the small bedroom. The cabin was silent save for the occasional pop of dying embers in the fireplace down the hall.
Carefully, so as not to disturb him, I eased out from under his grip. Cold air bit at my skin the moment I stepped away from the bed. I tiptoed across the wooden floorboards to where my green jacket hung over the back of the chair. My heart hammered in my throat as my fingers slid into the inner pocket, pulling out the stiff, white envelope.
I sat at the small wooden desk near the window, turning
