Chapter 36 The Quiet Before The Storm
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- The safehouse was a relic of someone else’s life. A faded cabin tucked deep in the pines, its walls lined with dusty fishing trophies and yellowed maps of lakes no one had visited in decades.
- The couch sagged, the fridge hummed like a dying insect, and the fireplace smoked more than it burned. But it was dry, hidden, and for now, ours.