“He needs a hospital,” I said, looking at the dark red stain on my coat sleeve.

“The Bureau has its own doctors,” Miller replied.

He turned the steering wheel, and we slid onto the deserted, snow-covered avenue.

I placed my hand over my stomach.

The baby kicked, a soft, fluttering reminder of the life growing inside me.

“Is she going to be safe?” I asked.

“As long as Adrian does what he promised,” Miller said.

We drove through the blinding white storm for nearly an hour.

The city lights faded into the gray gloom of the suburbs.

Miller stopped the car in front of a small, brick house with no lights on.

“This is a safe house,” he said, turning off the engine.

“For how long?” I asked.

“Until the trial,” Miller said. “Until it is all over.”

Inside, the air was cold and smelled of stale pine cleaner.

I sat on a beige vinyl couch while Miller locked the doors and closed the heavy curtains.

My phone sat on the kitchen counter, silent and threatening.

I didn’t sleep that night.