Chapter 304

Chapter 304

Juliana crouched down—the movement awkward now with her belly so large. She gripped the doorframe to steady herself.

"Bad dream?"

"No. It's just…" Matthew paused, his voice muffled. "Damian's not in the next room. It's too quiet."

Juliana studied him.

"First night. You'll get used to it." Juliana brushed her fingers through his hair.

Matthew lifted his head, his eyes darting toward the inside of the room before quickly looking away.

"Can I… sleep with you guys tonight?"

His voice dropped to barely a whisper, as if afraid Lucas might hear.

Lucas had already heard.

"Come in."

Matthew walked in clutching his pillow, placed it between Juliana and Lucas, then slid under the covers and pulled the blanket up to his chin.

Lucas glanced at him but said nothing, switching off one of the bedside lamps and leaving only the small nightlight on Juliana's side.

Matthew lay there, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

"Will Damian get used to life at Quincy?"

"He will."

"Did he text?"

"Yeah. Said there are six guys in his dorm. The bed's hard."

"He sleeps on a latex mattress at home. Switching to a hard board bed—he won't sleep well."

Juliana tucked the blanket up around his shoulders. "Damian's tough. He'll probably adjust in a couple of days."

Matthew rolled over to face Juliana.

"Mom."

"Mm?"

"Will I leave someday too?"

Juliana's hand stilled at the edge of the blanket.

"Do you want to?"

"No." Matthew answered quickly. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying home."

Juliana rested her hand on the back of his head and patted gently twice.

Matthew closed his eyes. About two minutes later, he was asleep.

Juliana withdrew her hand and turned to look at Lucas.

"He's not as strong as you think," Juliana whispered.

Lucas didn't respond.

"Two kids. One runs toward the world, the other pulls back. Complete opposites."

"Takes after you."

"How does he take after me?"

"The one who pulls back—that's you."

Juliana wanted to argue, but when she thought about it, she couldn't really find a counterpoint.

The baby in her belly shifted again—a kick or maybe a roll—then settled down after a couple of seconds.

……

At Chloe's place, the sheets were twisted into a heap, the pillow had fallen to the floor at some point.

Chloe lay on her side, hair scattered across her face.

David was beside her, his fingers idly tracing circles on her waist.

Quiet settled between them for a moment.

"What did you call me earlier?" David broke the silence first.

Chloe rolled over, turning her back to him. "What did I call you?"

"You called me David."

"Isn't that your name?"

"It is." David's hand didn't leave her waist. "But you didn't used to call me that."

"You used to call me 'brother.'"

Chloe's back stiffened. "That was before."

"Back when you called me that, did you ever think we'd end up here?"

Chloe didn't answer.

"When you called me 'brother,' did you ever think one day you'd be lying in bed with me?"

"You're insane." Chloe's voice came out hoarse.

David laughed, his breath hot against her neck.

"Did you?"

"No."

"Really?"

Chloe suddenly flipped over to face him, meeting his eyes.

"David, do you think you're funny or something?"

"I think so."

"People like you," Chloe stared at him, "never take serious things seriously, but insist on making jokes sound serious."

"I'm very serious." David reached out, brushing the hair from her face, his movements slow and deliberate, one strand at a time. "I'm asking you a very serious question."

Chloe's throat bobbed.

"Yes."

When the answer left her lips, her voice was softer than she'd expected.

David's hand paused behind her ear.

"When?"

"None of your business."

David didn't press further, but his hand slid from behind her ear, along her neck, her collarbone, trailing downward.

Chloe's breathing changed.

She grabbed his wrist. "You're insane."

"Aren't you?"

Chloe didn't argue. Because she realized her hand gripping his wrist wasn't pushing him away—it was pulling.

Pulling him toward her.

……

Afterward, David lay there, fresh red marks on his arm where Chloe had dug her nails in.

Chloe was facedown on the pillow, only one ear visible, the tip burning red.

She'd called him crazy. But she'd been crazier than him.

David pulled the blanket up over them. "Cold?"

"No." Her voice was muffled by the pillow.

"Let me see your face."

"No."

"What are you shy about?"

Chloe lifted her face from the pillow. The corners of her eyes were still flushed, her lips too, and the look in her eyes carried traces of something that hadn't quite faded.

David looked at her face. He'd always thought Chloe was smart, beautiful, someone who knew what she wanted. All of that was true. But it wasn't enough.

She had the same thing in her bones that he did.

Knowing they shouldn't keep going, but going anyway. Walking until they hit the wall, then dealing with it.

"What are you smiling about?" Chloe asked.

"I'm not smiling."

"Your mouth is twitching."

"Just thinking about something."

"What?"

David pulled Chloe closer.

"Thinking about how lucky I am."

Neither of them slept, but neither spoke again.

When the call went through, Milo was standing by the window. One ring. Two rings. Then it cut off.

He stared at the screen for two seconds, then redialed.

"I'll be back soon."

Kate's voice was slightly hoarse.

"Where are you?"

"Handling something. Almost done."

Milo didn't ask more. "Be careful."

"Yeah."

The call ended.

He set his phone on the table, went to the kitchen to boil water, and replaced her coffee cup—the one she'd made that morning was stone cold by now.

……

The road on the outskirts was narrow. Bodies lay scattered across the pavement. Not one person was standing.

Kate tossed what she'd been holding aside and walked toward the RV parked nearby.

The whole thing took maybe fifteen minutes. By the time she pushed the door open and stepped out, the ground had been cleared.

Beside the black van parked on the roadside stood a man with a buzz cut. "Boss."

"Ace."

Ace handed her a jacket. Once she'd put it on, he spoke. "This place isn't safe. You should consider pulling out."

Kate zipped the jacket halfway. "Who says it's not safe?"

"Tonight's crew wasn't the last. They've figured out your patterns. Sooner or later, there'll be another wave. You staying here—it's not worth it." He paused. "Besides, Lucas—you've been digging for so long, and you still can't get what he's got. Maybe we should…"

"Should what?"

Ace hesitated. "The people he cares about—there are options."

Kate didn't answer. She finished zipping the jacket. "We're not going that route."

Ace frowned. "Boss…"

"I said no. That means no."

Ace closed his mouth and nodded. "Understood."

"Let's head back."

……

Milo heard the door open but didn't get up from the couch. He just turned his head.

"Did you eat?" Milo asked.

"Not hungry."

"There's food on the table."

Kate glanced toward the dining table and sat down in a chair.

Milo rose from the couch and walked over, sitting across from her. "What happened today?"

"Work stuff. Nothing major."

Milo didn't respond. Just watched her.

Kate picked up the coffee and took a sip, then looked up. "What?"

"Nothing," he said. "Just… you smell a little…" Milo paused, then rephrased. "Did you use a new body wash today?"

Kate blinked. "It was stocked in the RV."

"Oh."

Milo didn't push further. He looked down and picked up a piece of fruit.

Clarence had been a military officer, spent years on the front lines. Over time, Milo's nose had become sharp. The scent of blood—even faint enough that most people wouldn't notice—he could pick up.

But for a cop, that kind of thing wasn't unusual. He didn't think much of it. Didn't plan to.

Kate finished the rest of the fruit, stood, and carried the plate away.

"Don't bother. I'll do it." Milo followed her.

Milo wiped the last glass dry, hung the towel back up, and turned to look at her.

Kate had just turned around too. They were close. Their eyes met.

"Tired?" he asked.

"A little."

"Then go to bed."

Kate walked toward the hallway. Milo followed, switching off the kitchen light behind him.

She stopped at the bedroom door. Didn't turn around. Her voice was quiet. "Milo."

"Yeah?"

"Next time, don't wait up for me."

Milo said, "I will anyway."

Kate pushed the door open. He followed her in and closed it behind them.

Milo came up behind her, resting his hand on her shoulder. He gently pulled her back, lowered his head, and rested his chin on top of hers.

Kate didn't move. Just let him hold her like that.

How many people had died tonight—she couldn't remember. Not because her memory was bad. Because she didn't need to remember.

"I love you. You know that." Milo's voice was low.

"Yeah."

Juliana lay in bed for half an hour, listening to the breathing of Lucas and Matthew beside her—one deep, one light, different rhythms.

The baby in her belly had settled down too. No kicks, no rolling. Probably tired.

She rolled over, reached for her phone on the nightstand. No new messages.

The next morning, Iris picked Matthew up for lessons. Juliana finished breakfast. A moment later, Lucas walked in.

Lucas was holding a piece of A4 paper—printed, black and white, like it had been pulled from some old file. An ID photo.

The man in the photo looked much younger than the one in the video. Maybe mid-twenties. Clean-cut features, high brow bone, sharp chin. The skin below his left ear was smooth—no scar yet.

"Owen." Lucas set the photo on the table.