CHAPTER NINETY EIGHT "As much as I hate to tell you this,” I whisper, my voice barely steady, “your lives are in danger. And I want to keep you all safe.” The room feels smaller. Then my father speaks—soft, but already certain. “They are coming for my grandson, aren’t they?” “Yes,” I say, the word heavy. I hear him inhale, then exhale slowly. It’s the sound he makes when he’s trying not to break. “And if you’re protecting all of us,” he asks, quietly, carefully, “who is protecting you?” The question hits deeper than any threat ever could. Silence stretches between us. The rocking chair creaks beneath me. Zaiden shifts against me, his tiny fingers curling into my shirt, warm and trusting. I stare at him, then close my eyes. I hadn’t thought about myself. Not once. I swallow and force a small laugh, a thin shield over fear. “Well, Dad… remember when I was seven, and Grandma was playing cards?” I say. “She told me I had a long life span. We were just playing, b
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