He looked at me seriously.

“Until I sign that amendment, I am a liability to them. And now that I’m out, they will hunt us down.”

I stood up and walked to the window, peering through a small crack in the heavy curtains.

Outside, the pine trees stood like silent giants under the dark Maine sky.

There was nothing but blackness and the sound of the wind rushing through the boughs.

Yet, the memory of that text message lingered in my mind.

“Alex,” I said, turning back to him. “How did you get that scar on your wrist?”

He looked down at his left wrist, where a faint, jagged white line ran near his watch strap.

“The clinic,” he said. “They kept me chained to the bed during the first week.”

I walked back to him and took his hand.

“We need to get you strong,” I said. “We can’t stay here forever.”

“We can’t stay here at all,” he said, his voice rising in panic. “Claire, did you bring your phone?”

“I turned it off,” I said.