Chapter 32
Sabine
I huddled in the back corner of Alex's walk-in closet, knees pulled to my chest, trying to make myself smaller as Cam stood guard at the door. Her broad shoulders blocked most of my view, but I could see her hand resting on her holstered weapon.
Muffled voices filtered up from downstairs. A deep male voice, then Alex’s higher tones. I couldn't make out words, but just the sounds made my pulse hammer in my throat.
A car engine rumbled to life outside. Tires crunched on gravel, the sound growing fainter until silence settled over the house again.
"I think he's gone," Cam said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Stay here. I'll check. Don't move."
She slipped out, leaving me alone with nothing but the soft click of the door.
I exhaled shakily, uncurling my cramped legs.
My journalist's instinct to observe kicked in despite my fear.
Alex's closet was immaculate. Rows of dresses I'd never seen her wear hung in perfect alignment.
Tailored suits in charcoal and navy. Silk blouses.
Designer labels I recognized from fashion magazines.
Nothing like the practical tactical wear she'd sported since becoming my bodyguard.
My gaze fixed on a midnight blue evening gown. The price tag still dangled from the sleeve. Three thousand dollars. My entire month's salary at the paper.
My mind raced, connecting dots I should have seen before.
Arturo Bellante. My investigation had uncovered his network of legitimate businesses—gas stations throughout the state, laundromats and parking garages stretching up to Philadelphia.
The perfect cover for washing the family's blood money. Literally laundering it.
I pressed my palms against my temples. If Arturo Bellante had found us, if he knew his sister was the one who betrayed their family, we were all in danger. And it was my fault for publishing that exposé.
Cam returned, her face grim. "Clear," she said, motioning me forward with a quick jerk of her hand.
I followed her down the stairs, my legs still trembling.
At the bottom, I found Alex frozen in the open doorway, her silhouette rigid against the afternoon light.
Kara and Ellie stood in the living room, their eyes darting between Alex and each other.
The tension in the air felt thick enough to choke on.
Alex turned slowly. Her face had gone pale, all the blood drained away. "They know it was me," she said. Her voice sounded hollow, like it came from somewhere far away. "You know the plan."
For a heartbeat, nobody moved. Then the room exploded into motion.
Kara snapped into action first, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Two hours max. One hour would be better." She was already moving toward the weapons safe.
Ellie nodded once, her usual warmth replaced by cold efficiency. "I'll wipe the drives," she said, turning toward the bank of monitors in command room. Her fingers flew across her phone, probably triggering remote protocols.
Cam brushed past me without a word, heading for the garage. I heard keys jingling in her pocket.
Alex grabbed my shoulders, her fingers digging in hard enough that I winced. Her eyes locked with mine, and for a second, I saw something there I'd never seen before. Fear.
"Sabine, go pack. Now." She gave me a gentle push toward the stairs. "Essentials only. We won't be coming back."
I stood frozen, watching as they dismantled our safe house with practiced precision. They'd planned for this moment while I'd been blissfully typing away at my exposé, thinking I was the one in control of this story.
I hurried up the stairs as quickly as I could manage, heart hammering against my ribs. In my room, I stared at my scattered belongings. The life I'd built over the last twelve days, reduced to what I could carry.
I stared at my belongings, still crammed in the suitcase and scattered across the bench at the foot of my bed.
Twelve days in this house, and I'd never unpacked.
Just lived like a vagabond, plucking clean clothes from the pile each morning, tossing dirty ones into a growing heap beside the nightstand.
My hands trembled as I gathered what I could. The half-empty bottle of shampoo from the shower. Three notebooks filled with my cramped handwriting. The memory box from my apartment closet that I'd insisted on bringing but had not opened.
Footsteps pounded up and down the hallway. Voices called out instructions. The urgency in their tones made my stomach clench.
This wasn't a drill. This wasn't practice. This was real.
Two hours to vanish. Maybe less.
I might not survive this. The thought hit me like a physical blow as I stuffed everything into my shoulder bag. The zipper caught on fabric, and I yanked it so hard the metal track nearly split.
Memories of the past week flooded back. How I'd raged about the cameras in every room. How I'd blamed them for Mark's death. How I'd accused them of betrayal when they were just doing their jobs.
My anger seemed so stupid now. So petty.
They'd given me space when I needed it. They'd respected my grief. And now they might die protecting me because I couldn't leave well enough alone. Because I had to publish that story. Because I thought the public's right to know trumped everything else.
I zipped the bag closed and took one last look at the room that had been my sanctuary. The weight of my choices pressed down on my shoulders as I headed for the door.
I carried my bags downstairs and set them in the foyer, then moved toward the command room doorway.
Inside, Kara pulled hard drives and memory cards from their slots, tossing each into a metal box with practiced efficiency. Her movements were quick, almost mechanical.
Beside her, Ellie's eyes darted between the laptop screen showing perimeter camera feeds and her hands, which unplugged and coiled cables with the precision of a surgeon.
They moved around each other without speaking, without looking, anticipating the other's next step like dancers who had performed the same routine for years.
I stood watching them work in perfect synchronization, suddenly feeling like an intruder. Neither of them glanced up or acknowledged my presence.
In that moment, I was invisible.
I cleared my throat. "Can I talk to you both?"
They looked up, startled by the interruption. Kara's face immediately shifted into her professional mask. Ellie's eyes, though, held genuine concern.
"I want to say..." My voice caught. "I'm sorry. For the last few days. For everything."
"Don't." Ellie shook her head, her fingers still flying over the keyboard. "We don't have time."
Kara nodded once, her movements never slowing as she continued pulling drives. "Save it for when we're safe."
I stood there awkwardly, watching them work. The air between us felt charged with things unsaid. Kara glanced at Ellie, who looked at me, and something passed between the three of us. Not forgiveness exactly. Understanding.
Ellie paused long enough to reach out and squeeze my hand. Her palm was warm against mine, her grip firm and reassuring.
Kara surprised me by stepping away from the metal box. She wrapped one arm around my shoulders in a brief, tight embrace that smelled of gunmetal and vanilla.
"I just..." My throat tightened. "I don't want to die with you thinking I hate you."
Ellie's face softened. "We know you don't hate us, Sabine."
"And you're not going to die," Kara said, her voice low and certain. "None of us are."
Before I could respond, she leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to my lips. The gesture was so unexpected that I froze.
The moment shattered when Alex appeared in the doorway. "We need to move," she said, her voice tight with urgency.
Kara stepped away from me immediately, returning to the drives. Ellie turned back to her screen, fingers resuming their frantic dance across the keyboard.
I backed toward the door, suddenly feeling like I was in the way. They had returned to their work, the brief moment of connection already fading as survival mode took over again.
I turned around to find Cam grabbing my suitcase and shoulder bag. Her movements were efficient, almost mechanical, like she'd rehearsed this exact scenario a hundred times before. Maybe she had.
"The cats!" I blurted out, suddenly remembering the mother cat and kittens nestled in their box by the fireplace.
Cam barely glanced at me. "They’re already loaded." She hefted both bags and disappeared through the front door.
The house transformed into a blur of activity around me.
Kara strode past with two long rifle bags slung over her shoulder, her face set in grim determination.
Behind her, Alex carried the cardboard banker's box containing all the evidence on the Bellante family—the same box she'd given me months ago.
I stood frozen in the hallway, uncertain what to do with myself. Everyone had a role except me. I wandered into the kitchen and sank into a chair, watching as they systematically emptied our temporary home.
Ellie rushed past with her laptop, setting it on the kitchen counter. Her eyes never left the screen for more than a few seconds as she monitored the gate cameras. She reached up to the cabinets and began emptying them of essential supplies, boxing canned goods and protein bars with one hand.
Through the open side door, I watched Cam loading boxes into the back of the SUV, her movements precise and economical. No wasted energy. No hesitation. They moved around each other in perfect synchronization, a professional choreography I couldn't hope to match.
Alex hurried through the foyer to the stairs, taking them two at a time. She didn't acknowledge me as she went, focused entirely on retrieving the last essential items from upstairs. I heard her footsteps overhead, moving from room to room with purpose.
I remained seated, feeling strangely helpless. For the first time since entering protective custody, I wasn't the center of their attention. They weren't concerned with my comfort or my feelings or my work. They were concerned only with our survival.
The realization was oddly liberating. I'd spent so much energy fighting their protocols, resenting their presence, treating them like obstacles to my freedom. Now I simply watched them work, trusting them completely to handle whatever came next.
Cam returned for another load, her eyes briefly meeting mine. She gave me a small nod—not reassurance exactly, but acknowledgment. I nodded back. No words needed. We understood each other perfectly in that moment.
I sat still while they moved, a fixed point in their whirlwind of activity, finally accepting that my life was in their hands.
A sharp crackle split the air as Cam's voice came through the walkie on the kitchen counter.
"Vehicles loaded. We need to go."
I heard Alex's voice in the background, her tone clipped and urgent. "Get Sabine in the van. Everything's wired. I'm coming."
The kitchen fell silent except for the soft hum of the refrigerator. Kara stood by the doorway, her hand resting on her holstered weapon, eyes alert and focused on something beyond the walls. Ellie remained beside me, her breathing steady despite the tension radiating from her body.
We looked at each other, three women caught in a moment that felt suspended between what had been and what might come.
The air between us vibrated with unspoken words, fears, and promises.
I saw in their eyes what they couldn't say aloud: that they would die before they let anything happen to me, that they had accepted this responsibility without reservation.
Kara broke first, turning toward the door with fluid precision. Her shoulders straightened as she stepped into her role as our leader, our shield. She moved into the foyer without looking back, trusting we would follow.
Ellie snapped the laptop shut and tucked it under her arm. Her warm fingers wrapped around mine. She squeezed once, the pressure firm and reassuring as she pulled me gently from my chair. Her touch anchored me to the present, to the reality of our situation.
I followed Kara's straight back through the doorway, feeling Ellie close behind me, her presence a comfort I hadn't expected to need so desperately. We moved in formation toward the waiting vehicles, toward whatever waited for us beyond this temporary sanctuary.
Together.