Semua Bab Twice His Wife: Bab 111 - Bab 120

Dawn didn’t come softly.It broke over the ridge like something snapping, light tearing across the valley and catching on every wet leaf, every blade of flattened grass. The fog was thin but fast, crawling over the forest floor like it had somewhere to be. Cassian was already up, crouched with his back to a tree, scanning the slope below with the stolen scope. Maris hadn’t slept at all.Anaïs sat with the child curled beside her, both of them draped in a mylar blanket that shimmered like something out of a broken future. She hadn’t closed her eyes. Not really. Sleep was a memory she didn’t trust anymore.Cassian looked over his shoulder. “You two ready?”“No,” Anaïs said quietly. “But we’ll go.”Maris adjusted the strap on her thigh holster. “We go in, split up. Get what we need. No contact. No lingering. No second guesses.”Anaïs nodded. “Where do we meet?”Cassian pointed toward the far end of the town, where the buildings thinned into countryside. “Barn outside the mill. Looks aban

The wind changed before the sun came up.Anaïs noticed it first. A subtle shift. The air carried a different weight—less forest, more metal. She opened her eyes without moving, listening. Beside her, the child was still asleep, curled into the warmth of her side. Cassian’s silhouette stood at the edge of the clearing, watchful. Maris was a few feet away, crouched low, tension sharp in her frame.No birds. No rustle. The quiet wasn’t natural.Anaïs whispered, “Something’s wrong.”Cassian didn’t turn. “I know.”Maris motioned for them to stay low. Her hand was already on the grip of her pistol. Anaïs gently shifted the child behind her, heart thudding now, but steady.Then came the hum.Low, distant, mechanical—too low for an aircraft, too consistent for weather. It sounded like it came from underground and overhead all at once. Cassian crouched beside her, voice low.“They’re scanning.”Anaïs nodded. “Thermals?”“Probably. Drones first. Then boots.”The sky had started to gray, but the

The rain didn’t fall. It waited.Like everything else.Anaïs stood beneath the blackened sky with her coat pulled tight, the child’s head tucked under her chin. The field stretched wide before them—open, wet, and exposed. No more forest to shield them. No more time to hesitate. The back wall of the facility had gone up in flames hours ago, and the smoke still lingered. So did the silence it left behind.Julien was gone. But his plan was still breathing.Cassian moved ahead, scanning the edge of the field with the same restless energy he’d carried since they left the woods. His jaw was clenched. His hand never strayed far from the sidearm he’d stolen.Maris brought up the rear. She hadn’t spoken since morning. Not a word since the shot near the river. Her shoulder was still bleeding through the wrap, but she hadn’t complained, hadn’t asked for help. Just kept walking.“I don’t like this,” Cassian muttered.Anaïs adjusted the child’s weight on her hip. “We don’t have to like it. We just

The town smelled like oil and ash.They arrived just before dawn, slipping down through the tree line with their backs hunched and their eyes scanning every rooftop, every utility pole, every window. It wasn’t a big place—maybe six streets total—but that only made it worse. Fewer places to hide.Cassian had gone in ahead, just as they’d planned. Unarmed but fast. He knew the layout from the stolen map. Market on Main. Clinic on Garrison. A café with a working phone. They’d agreed on twenty minutes. No longer. If he wasn’t back by then, they’d go in after him—no matter what.Anaïs crouched beneath a broken fence behind a shut-down gas station, the child tucked close against her chest, wrapped in the cleanest cloth Maris had. Her own breathing felt louder than it should. It had weight now. Every inhale carried the memories of blood and smoke and Julien’s hand disappearing into the fire.Maris sat beside her, chewing the inside of her cheek raw. Her fingers toyed with a small stone like

Cassian didn’t move for a long time.He stood in the middle of the cellar, his hand still resting on the heavy door they’d just sealed shut. Above them, night was settling hard over the ridge. But down here, it was already darker than it had any right to be. Cold, too. The stone walls caught your breath and held it hostage.Anaïs sat on the bottom step with the child curled in her lap, her back pressed to the wood paneling like it might fold around them if they stayed still enough.Maris stood with her arms crossed tight, staring at the shelves of dried roots and pickled things that lined the walls. Her mouth didn’t move. Her eyes didn’t blink. But her hand hovered close to her knife like she expected the room to breathe wrong.And Crane… Crane looked older than he had hours ago.He dragged a stool across the stone floor and sat down with the kind of heaviness that said he’d run out of backup plans. “I was hoping it wasn’t her,” he said finally. “Aster’s not someone you lose. She’s so