He turns and puts his hands on my jaw. “If I die, I’ll live inside you. If I’m caught and trapped again, a part of me will be free.”

“You’re chickening out.” Gently, I pull his hands down and hold them. “Locking me up isn’t the only way to keep me safe. And you’re alone. Maybe I need to protect you.”

“You need to think harder about what you need to protect.”

He’s talking about the baby. My job, first and foremost, is to make sure it grows and lives to see the world. He’s right, and I hate it. I need to be with him, fixing what we broke. I can’t sit here and wait for him to die or save the world when staying behind makes it more likely he won’t come back.

“Okay,” I say. “Here’s what we can do. You go. Check for Connor. And while you’re out, get a pregnancy test. Then we’ll know.”

“I know already.”

“Get the test anyway. Just to shut me up. If I’m not, we fight tomorrow.”

“And when you are?”

“We plan around it.”

I can tell he finds this answer inadequate and he’s about to argue, but a loud beep fills the room. With a gasp, I jump away. He’s as calm as the eye of a storm.

“If they come for us”—he opens the cabinet with the security monitor behind it—“they’re not going to ring the bell.”

The monitor shows a wide view of the two cars at the gate and the driver of the front car—a shaved-bald man I don’t recognize. I flip my attention back to wide view. The car in front is a black Buick Skylark.

“Is that my car?!” I cry.

“It is.” He presses the button and calls to the driver, “I’ll be right out.” He lets it go. “It was towed. I know a guy who got it out before they impounded it or found the guns you hid in it.” He kisses me. “Wait here.”

He walks to the garage. The BMW is there, waiting. I follow and find Dario getting a pistol and holster from the cabinet.

“I told you to wait.” He buckles the holster.

“I am waiting.”

He pushes a button to open the garage door and walks out. Without thinking, I follow him. He turns, sees me, stops.

“Sarah, I said—”

“To wait.”

He points at the seam where the concrete floor of the garage meets the white stones of the driveway. “See this line?”

“Yes.”

“Wait on that side of it. Please. It’s just the front gate.”

“Okay.”