Chapter 37
Sabine
I set my suitcase down on the pine floor of the lake house and watched the cats explore their new territory.
The mama calico prowled the perimeter with purpose, checking each corner and doorway before allowing her kittens to venture further.
Sunlight streamed through tall windows, catching dust motes that danced above the leather couch.
Despite everything, I felt the muscles in my neck relax for the first time since we left the burning estate behind us.
Nellie, the little gray kitten, pounced on a shadow near my feet, tumbling over herself in the process. She righted herself with an indignant look that made me laugh.
"They're settling in faster than I am," I said.
Alex knelt to scratch behind the mama cat's ears. "Animals adapt. They don't overthink things like we do."
The orange kitten batted at the zipper of my bag, his tiny face serious with concentration.
"What is it you've been calling the little orange one?" I asked.
Alex glanced up, a rare smile softening her face. "Orwell. Felt appropriate given the circumstances."
I snorted. "Big Brother is watching?"
"Yeah, something like that. Three big brothers, in my case," she replied, her eyes returning to the windows, scanning the tree line beyond.
The scent of garlic and onions sizzling in butter filled the cabin as Cam worked at the stove, her movements steady and sure.
She hadn't said more than ten words since we arrived, but her cooking spoke volumes.
I watched her slice mushrooms with military precision, each piece exactly the same thickness.
Ellie sat cross-legged by the stone fireplace, a notepad balanced on her knee. The flames cast an orange glow across her face as she chewed on the end of her pen.
"We need to get you proper winter gear," she said without looking up. "Those city coats won't cut it when the real cold hits."
"And cat food," I added, watching Orwell bat at a dust bunny under the coffee table.
Kara appeared from the hallway carrying a stack of folded blankets. "And more kitty litter. Four cats is a lot to manage." She set the blankets on the arm of the couch and began sorting through a duffel bag of supplies, laying items out in neat rows on the dining table.
I leaned against the kitchen counter, taking it all in.
Three weeks ago, I'd been in my apartment surrounded by ledgers, photographs, and takeout containers, putting the final touches on the story that would blow open the Bellante operation.
Now I was in a remote cabin with four beautiful bodyguards and a family of cats, hiding from killers.
Alex joined me at the counter, her shoulder brushing mine as she reached for a mug. The contact, brief as it was, grounded me.
"You okay?" she asked quietly.
I nodded. "Better than I expected to be."
When dinner was ready, we gathered around the table. Cam served pasta without ceremony. Ellie poured wine into mismatched glasses. Kara checked her watch, then allowed herself to relax into her chair. Alex sat beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of her leg against mine.
Outside, the sun began to set over the lake, painting the water gold and pink.
Mountains rose dark against the sky, their peaks already dusted with early snow.
In that moment, with steam rising from our plates and the cats weaving between our legs, I felt something unexpected unfurl in my chest. Not safety, exactly. But something close to peace.
"Thank you," I said simply. "All of you."
Four pairs of eyes met mine, and I knew they understood what I couldn't fully express.
After dinner, while Ellie finished the dishes, Kara crossed to a door I hadn't noticed before, just past the main bathroom. She produced a key from her pocket and turned it in the lock. The door swung open to reveal a small room lined with monitors and electronics.
"We need to set up the patrol schedule," Kara announced, her voice all business. "Ellie, Cam, come take a look at these sight lines."
They moved toward her like planets pulled by gravity. Alex rose too, pushing back her chair with quiet determination. She took three steps before Cam turned, blocking her path with one outstretched arm.
"Not you, Alex," Cam said, her voice softer than usual but still firm. "You can't patrol anymore. It's not safe."
Alex's jaw tightened. "But I can still—"
"No buts," Cam cut her off. Her eyes flicked briefly to me, then back to Alex. "You know why."
I pretended to be fascinated by the dregs of wine in my glass, but I caught the flash of frustration that crossed Alex's face. The muscles in her forearms tensed as she clenched her fists at her sides.
Kara nodded once at Cam, then gestured the others inside. The door closed behind them with a soft click that somehow felt louder than a slam.
Alex stood frozen in place. I sat motionless at the table. Between us hung the unspoken truth: she wasn't just here to protect me anymore. She was being protected too.
She stood motionless for several seconds, her shoulders rigid beneath her t-shirt.
Then she exhaled, bent down to scoop up Orwell, and walked to the window.
The kitten settled against her chest, his orange fur bright against her black shirt.
Her fingers moved mechanically through his fur while her eyes scanned the darkening tree line.
I remained at the table, wine glass empty between my palms. The cabin felt suddenly too quiet, filled only with the soft ticking of a wall clock and the distant murmur of voices behind the locked door.
Alex pressed her forehead against the glass.
Orwell batted at the silver streak in her hair that hung in front of him.
I watched the careful way she held him, and the tension in her jaw that never quite left.
Behind me, I could hear Kara's voice through the door, steady and tactical.
Ellie's laugh. The low rumble of Cam's response.
I'd wanted to expose the truth about the Bellantes—to drag their crimes into the light where everyone could see. I hadn't understood the cost. How many lives would shatter in the aftermath. How much blood would be spilled for the truth I'd printed.
I didn't know how long we had here. Days? Weeks? But I knew one thing: when the Scorpions came for us, these four women and I would face them together.