The safe house was little more than a crumbling stone cabin, its walls covered in moss and vines. The door hung slightly ajar, creaking softly in the breeze. Caleb stared at it, his stomach sinking.

  “This is your safe house?” Caleb asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “It’s safer than the forest,” Evelyn replied, pushing the door open.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Carter chuckled softly. “Comforting.”

  Evelyn ignored him, stepping inside. The interior was small and sparsely furnished—just a single wooden table, a few chairs, and an old cot pushed against the far wall.

  “It’ll do,” Evelyn said, her tone matter-of-fact.

  “For what?” Caleb asked. “Hiding from an army of lunatics?”

  Evelyn shot him a look. “For regrouping.”

  Carter leaned against the doorframe, his expression amused. “You’re a real optimist, aren’t you?”

  “Shut the door,” Evelyn snapped.