Page 87 of Beyond Oblivion

She nodded, her eyes showing a glimmer of relief, so I continued. “I swapped out the standard locks for Grade 1 deadbolts. Reinforced strike plates, too, in case someone thinks they can just kick their way in. Added double-cylinder locks on all the main doors, and all windows have new pin locks. And then there’s the new motion sensors—strategically placed. One in the entryway, another at the back door, and one near the garage. If anything moves where it shouldn’t, the system kicks in.”

I could see her starting to relax, but I wasn’t done. “And let’s not forget the floodlights. Those babies are on a 360-degree sensor, so anything bigger than a leaf? Whole yard lights up like the Fourth of July. I even put pressure sensors along the driveway and garden paths—they’ll alert us if someone’s creeping up.”

Camille’s fingers tapped lightly on my arm, her tension slowly easing. “And everything’s connected to your phone?”

“Yep, all of it. I upgraded to a military-grade app that handles remote monitoring. I get instant alerts, plus I can control everything from here. Added biometric access to our security panel, so only you, me, and the people we trust can disarm the system. And just in case, I’ve set it to automatically alert Travis and Abby if anything suspicious happens, so we’ve got back up close by. I’ll add Thomas and Liis, too, since they’re here.”

She looked up at me. “It makes sense now why you’ve been so busy in the evenings. You thought of everything.”

“Damn right I did. My baby’s having a baby,” I said, wrapping my arm around her. “We’re locked down tighter than Fort Knox.” And as the words sank in, I could see the final traces of worry slip away from her face. “If a squirrel so much as sneezes in our yard, we’ll know about it.”

“I knew you’d take care of it. I just needed to hear you say it.”

That was all I needed. I wrapped my arm around her a little tighter, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. She leaned into me, her hand resting over my heart, fingers spread, feeling my heartbeat beneath. The troubles, the unanswered questions—all of it slipped into the background, leaving just this moment, the quiet reassurance of her beside me, knowing she trusted me to keep her safe.

Halfway through the movie, I caught her stifling a yawn, her eyes starting to drift shut. I nudged her gently. “Hey, don’t fall asleep yet. I’ve got one last baby name suggestion.”

“Oh no,” she muttered, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Okay, hear me out. For a girl: Bathsheba. Imagine roll call at school. ‘Bathsheba, present!’”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Poor child would never forgive us.”

“And for a boy…” I paused dramatically, making her lift her head, waiting. “Craggy. Craggybones McGinty Maddox.”

She burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand. “You woke me up for that? He’s not a pirate.”

I shrugged, unable to keep a straight face. “Our son will definitely be a pirate.”

A sleepy laugh escaped, and a sense of ease filled the room, softening the rough edges left by the day. Once our laughter faded, a calm took over, and I felt the same exhaustion that had crept up on my wife. The worries—Madison, the mystery cult, the stream of absurd baby names—slipped to the back of my mind, fading like faint static on a far-off radio.

Chapter Twenty-One

Camille

The fluorescent lights buzzed as they hovered over the lobby, filling the stillness as I clicked the computer awake. Trenton had disappeared to the break room, likely hunting down his second cup of coffee. I could already picture him leaning up against the counter, grumbling about someone using all the good creamer.

The screen lit up, still black but loading, and the sign-in kiosks blinked on one after the other, beeping in a short melody the moment they were ready. Moments later from somewhere in the back, Trenton turned on the music, something edgy I’d never heard before playing over the speaker system. As the schedule screen came into view, I called to my husband, remembering he had an earlier-than-usual appointment.

“Trent?” I called.

“Yeah?” he yelled from somewhere down the hall. I waited until he appeared, knowing if I didn’t, he’d just ask me to repeat myself.

He drifted out and stood next to me, coffee in hand, looking suspiciously content.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“What’s what?” he said, looking down at his black T-shirt.

The cotton fabric stretched slightly across his broad shoulders and chest, fitting in a way that showed off his time spent at the gym without fuss. His jeans sat low on his hips, held up by a thick, studded black belt, the denim worn just enough to hint at the countless hours he’d put into his craft. His scuffed leather boots—a staple of his standard Skin Deep uniform—had that lived-in look, lending him an understated confidence.

His gaze lifted to meet mine. “You’re giving me a complex. What are you staring at?”

I leaned in, grinning against his mouth. “I can’t help it. Sometimes I look at you and it just hits me how incredibly lucky I am. And now I’m thinking how beautiful our baby is going to be.”

He wrapped his arms around me, suddenly animated. “You want to go to the back? Let me try to give him a neighbor?”

I guffawed, my head falling back as my entire body shook with laughter.

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