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."
