We didn’t speak through dinner and the rest of the evening.

But when we made love, all of that changed.

She slowly came back to me. Her nails dug into my back. Her kisses turned hard. She whispered her love to me. The last time we’d had a fight, I’d left, and we both could have died. She learned from that and didn’t hold on to her anger.

I didn’t either.

I got dressed and prepared to leave.

In my t-shirt, she sat at the edge of the bed, a mess from all the sex, but a beautiful mess. She watched my movements, her arms over her chest, dread in her eyes.

“I need to show you something.”

She followed me downstairs. I led her through the foyer, behind the staircase, and down a hallway behind the kitchen. In a room was a bookshelf that took up the entire back wall.

“Pay attention.” I walked over to the books on the shelf, specifically War and Peace, and tilted them back simultaneously. Then I went to the piano and hit the first white key.

The bookshelf turned just enough for someone to slide inside.

Her eyes widened. “The safe room…”

“Come on.” I slipped inside and stepped into a square room made entirely of metal.

She looked around, seeing nothing but four walls.

There was a pad on the wall, and I hit the button.

The room started to move.

She jolted as we descended to the ground, looking around even though there were no windows to see the earth pass by. “It’s an elevator…”

We made it to the bottom, and the doors opened.

I stepped into the concrete passageway. Guns and supplies lined the beginning of a long, dark tunnel. “This tunnel goes all the way to Paris. If the alarm ever goes off, don’t hesitate. Run down here and join the staff. If the elevator isn’t there, give it a second because it’ll rise again.”

She nodded her understanding.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before…” Gilbert might still be alive if I had. No one had ever tried to take me down at my residence, so it was a possibility I never seriously considered. My arrogance had cost lives.

We rose back in the elevator to the main room. The bookshelf was righted once again, and we walked to the foyer. My car was ready in the roundabout. I turned to her in front of the open doorway, my heart heavy because leaving her was the most painful thing I ever had to do.

Her arms were crossed over her chest, her eyes sad. “How long will you be gone?”

“Not sure.”

“Is there a way we can talk?”

I never made personal phone calls while I was at the camp. We had satellite phones, but the reception was poor. Most of the conversations were just static. “No.”

The disappointment was heavy. “Be careful, okay?”