“He doesn’t have the key to this place,” Adrian said. “Only three people do, and two of them are dead.”

“And the third?”

“Me.”

I sat down on the edge of the old cot in the corner.

The springs groaned under my weight, a shrill, metallic protest.

I pulled the woolen blanket tighter around my shoulders, but the damp cold seemed to seep directly into my bones.

“I had to go to the doctor last week, Adrian.”

He looked up sharply, his posture instantly rigid.

“You went to the hospital?”

“The clinic in Lake Forest,” I said. “I was bleeding. I thought I was losing the baby.”

His face went completely pale, the dark circles under his eyes looking like bruises.

He dropped to his knees in front of me, his hands reaching for my waist, then hesitating.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered.

“How could I? You were hiding from the feds, and your phone was dead.”

“Is the baby… is everything alright?”

“The doctor said it was stress,” I said. “But they had to run tests.”

Adrian’s eyes widened, the pupils shrinking to tiny black dots.