I wake up at 3 a.m. and find Celeste already awake, staring toward the window like danger has a schedule.This is becoming a pattern.The safehouse is quiet — too quiet, the kind of silence that feels like holding your breath. Outside, the valley is black, no lights for miles, just the stars and the moon and the wind moving through the fields.Celeste is sitting up in bed, her back against the headboard, her eyes fixed on the curtained window. She doesn't look at me when I stir. Doesn't acknowledge that I'm awake at all."Celeste."Nothing."Celeste." I reach out, touch her arm. She flinches — barely, just a tiny recoil — but it's enough to make my heart clench."You should sleep," she says finally. Her voice is flat. Distant. The voice she uses with board members she's about to destroy."I could say the same to you.""I don't sleep well in strange places.""We've been here for two nights.""Exactly." She finally looks at me. Her eyes are dark, shadowed, ringed with exhaustion. "Two n
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