Chapter 88 The Safehouse Siege

• Rain hammered the cabin’s roof like a thousand fists, drowning out the creak of floorboards and the static hiss of the radio. Firelight flickered over weapon blueprints sprawled across the table, their edges curling in the damp. Adam knelt by the hearth, feeding another log to the flames, his face carved into grim lines by the shadows.
• “They’ll come at dawn,” he said.
• I tightened the tripwire across the doorway, my fingers numb from the cold. “They’ll come when they think we’re sleeping.”