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Chapter Seventeen

Autor: Dee
last update Data de publicação: 2026-09-10 20:34:45
Anna

The secondary vehicle was a blacked out, heavily armored pickup truck hidden beneath a camouflaged tarp in a disused ranger station two hundred yards down the valley floor.

Klaus didn't let me drive, despite the blood soaking through the makeshift bandage I had bound around his left thigh. He sat in the driver's seat like a statue carved from dark granite, his broad hands locked onto the steering wheel at ten and two, his dark hazel eyes fixed on the narrow, snow-slicked dirt road windi
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  • The Sentinel's Vow   Chapter Forty

    AnnaBy late September, the Laurentian basin transformed into a sea of brilliant scarlet, amber, and deep gold.The heat of summer vanished overnight, replaced by a crisp, biting northern wind that sent fallen birch leaves dancing across the wide timber deck. Inside La Clairière, the floorboards were cool, and the stone hearth burned once again with a steady, crackling fire that filled the tall timber rafters with the rich, comforting scent of dry pine.Leo sat in the center of the rug, wearing a hand-knit navy wool sweater. He was fifteen months old now, and the restless energy in his small frame was rapidly growing beyond the boundaries of sitting still.He held a small wooden train car—the one Klaus had carved for him on the granite shelf—and was repeatedly pushing it across the weave of the rug, making low, serious grunting sounds in his throat.I sat on the edge of the sofa, watching him over the top of my manuscript draft."Look at him, Klaus," I said softly, glancing over towar

  • The Sentinel's Vow   Chapter Thirty-Nine

    AnnaThe first year of a child’s life inside a fortress is measured not by calendar pages, but by the subtle, unbroken rhythm of perimeter routines.By mid-August, the high summer sun over Saint-Alexis-des-Monts turned the surface of the lake into a blinding sheet of white gold. The heavy pine canopy around La Clairière was thick, dark green, and vibrant, casting deep, cool shadows across the wide timber deck. The air smelled of baked pine needles, wild cedar, and the faint, crisp tang of clean lake water coming off the basin.Inside the great room, the silence was no longer the heavy, expectant quiet of two fugitives waiting for a breach. It was filled with the soft, steady hum of the climate control, the faint click of solar relays in the east wall, and the rhythmic, determined babble of a fourteen-month-old boy discovering his legs.Leo sat on the thick woven wool rug before the unlit stone hearth, his small, chubby hands clamped around a heavy block of sanded walnut.He was built

  • The Sentinel's Vow    Chapter Thirty-Eight

    AnnaThe first year of Leo’s life moved with the slow, golden rhythm of the northern season.By mid-summer, he was crawling across the slate floorboards of La Clairière with a fierce, determined energy that made Klaus’s dark hazel eyes soften every time he watched him. The house was no longer just a sanctuary built for two fugitives hiding from the world; it had become a home filled with the scattered wooden toys Klaus had hand-carved in the workshop, the smell of fresh linen, and the soft, breathless sound of a child’s laughter echoing off the high timber beams.I sat on the wide wooden deck under the warm July sun, watching the clear water of the lake ripple against the dock pilings.My laptop rested on the low table beside me, displaying the clean, final sales ledger from the Montreal publishing trust. The story of our past—the books I had written under my pen name—continued to resonate across the world, generating a steady, quiet stream of clean revenue that flowed directly into L

  • The Sentinel's Vow   Chapter Thirty-Seven

    AnnaThe labor began not with a sudden, dramatic contraction, but with a low, aching weight in my lower back that woke me at three in the morning.Outside, the storm had finally burned itself out. The sky above the Laurentian basin was clear, cold, and crowded with millions of sharp white stars, casting a pale, ethereal glow across the fresh six-inch blanket of snow covering the deck.I lay still in the dark, my hand resting flat over the peak of my stomach. Another long, tight wave rolled through my core—firm, deliberate, and undeniable.Beside me, the bed shifted instantly.Klaus hadn't been asleep; he never truly slept when a storm rolled through or when my due date hovered like a marked vector on a map. Before I could even turn my head, his broad hand was on my shoulder, his massive frame sitting erect in the shadow."Anna," he rumbled, his voice dropping into that immediate, razor-sharp register of absolute alertness. "What is the interval?"I let out a slow, measured breath, wai

  • The Sentinel's Vow   Chapter Thirty-Six

    AnnaBy late October, the high Laurentian wilderness had turned into a cathedral of stark, breathtaking grandeur.The brilliant amber and crimson canopy of summer’s end had shed its leaves, leaving the dark, bare branches of the oak and birch trees silhouetted against a pale, ice-blue sky. The air had dropped to a razor-sharp chill, snapping against the skin with the promise of early snow. Out on the main basin, the dark mirror of the lake was so still it reflected every crag of the granite cliffs with absolute, glass-like clarity.Inside La Clairière, the warmth was thick, heavy, and immediate.A continuous fire burned in the double-sided hearth, the scent of burning birch, sweet pine resin, and simmering beef broth filling the vaulted great room. The wide slate floorboards radiated gentle, stored heat, keeping the chill of the Canadian autumn at bay.I sat in the wide leather recliner near the hearth, wrapped in a thick knit blanket of cream wool, resting my hand over the heavy, pro

  • The Sentinel's Vow   Chapter Thirty-Five

    AnnaBy mid-July, the heat in the Laurentian basin had settled into a thick, languid hum.The vast mirror of the lake shimmered under a high, pale sun that burned from five in the morning until long past nine at night. The granite cliffs threw off waves of stored warmth, and the scent of baked pine needles, damp earth, and sweet wild clover hung heavy in the air.Inside La Clairière, the wide glass doors of the sunroom were thrown open to the deck, catching whatever faint breeze drifted across the water.I sat in the wide leather armchair near the hearth, wrapped in a thin linen robe, my hand resting flat over the gentle, undeniable curve of my stomach.Six months.Six months since the quiet doctor in Saint-Alexis—a man whose discretion Klaus had personally verified through three separate background layers—had confirmed what my body had already begun to whisper. A new life was growing inside the sanctuary we had carved out of the wilderness.For the first few weeks, the news had sent

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