I feel Kelli flinch beside me.
I set my hand over hers under the table.
Squeeze once.
Silent promise.
Not while I’m breathing.
Silpha checks the window, restless.
"I can't stay long," she mutters. "I have my own trail to cover."
She slings her satchel back over her shoulder.
"You need anything," she says, meeting my eyes, "you send signal on channel nine. Only once. Only if you’re cornered."
I nod.
She pauses at the door.
Looks back.
Her face softens a fraction when she looks at Kelli.
At the kids.
"You have one shot at this," she says rough. "Make it count."
Then she's gone, swallowed by the shadows.
The silence after she leaves is thick.
Heavy.
Joren presses close to Kelli’s leg.
Aria tugs on the hem of my jacket.
"Are we leaving, Papa?" she asks, voice tiny.
My heart kicks hard against my ribs.
I crouch, pulling them both close.
"Yeah, little warrior," I say hoarse. "We are."
She nods solemn, like I just handed her a mission.
Joren just buries his face in my chest.
I lift him into my arms, feeling the frail strength of him.
The steady thrum of life.
Gods help anyone who tries to take that away from me.
Kelli moves around the room, quick and efficient, gathering supplies, stashing weapons, checking the battered satchels we’ll need to survive the next seven days.
