Page 73 of Sanctuary

Mia nodded, accepting this tentative olive branch for what it was. “Thank you.”

Wren joined us, slipping her arm through Declan’s. “Ready to go?”

As we walked toward the hospital exit, Mia’s hand found mine, our fingers intertwining naturally. The weight of the past few days—the violence, the revelations, the losses—hung heavy around us, but there was something else too. A sense of possibility, of a future not dictated by Matheson’s shadow or clan obligations.

“What about you two?” Wren asked as we reached the parking lot. “Will you join us at the lake house?”

I glanced at Mia, seeing the question in her eyes. “Actually,” I said, “I think we might need some time. Just us.”

Declan nodded, understanding without needing details. “Take whatever time you need. But stay in touch. Daily updates on Rory.”

“Of course,” I promised, embracing my brother carefully, mindful of his injuries.

Wren hugged Mia, the gesture tentative but genuine. “Take care of him,” she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear.

“I will,” Mia promised, returning the embrace with equal care.

As Declan and Wren drove away, Mia turned to me. “Where do we go now?”

I took her hand, leading her toward our rental car. “I have an idea.”

Chapter 34

Connor

The cabin stood nestled among towering pines, its weathered exterior blending with the natural landscape. It was simple. A living area with a stone fireplace, a small kitchen, one bedroom, and a covered porch overlooking the lake. Far from civilization, accessible only by a winding dirt road, it offered the solitude we desperately needed.

“It’s beautiful,” Mia said, stepping onto the porch as the setting sun painted the water in shades of gold and crimson. “How did you find this place?”

“It belongs to the clan,” I explained, setting our bags inside the door. “A retreat for members who need... space. Time to think.”

She turned to me, her expression open yet guarded. “Is that what we need? Time to think?”

Loons called to each other back and forth as I moved to stand beside her, watching as the last rays of sunlight danced across the lake. “I think we need time to figure out who we are now—together, without anyone hovering around us.”

Mia leaned into me, her head resting against my shoulder. “Together,” she echoed, the word carrying weight beyond its simplicity. “I like the sound of that.”

We stood in comfortable silence, watching darkness settle over the lake. Stars emerged, their reflections rippling across the water’s surface. Away from the chaos and violence that had defined our lives for so long, I felt the tension in my shoulders begin to ease.

“I’ve been thinking about Lily,” Mia said finally, her voice soft but clear in the stillness. “About what to tell her, how much she deserves to know.”

I wrapped an arm around her waist, anchoring her against me. “What do you want her to know?”

“The truth,” she replied after a moment’s consideration. “Not everything at once, but enough. She deserves to know she has sisters who want to be part of her life.”

“And about Matheson? Your past?”

Mia sighed, her breath visible in the cooling evening air. “Eventually. When she’s ready, when I’m ready to explain that part of myself.” She turned to face me, her eyes searching mine in the gathering darkness. “What about you? Are you ready to hear about that part of me?”

The question hung between us, loaded with implications. We had faced death together, fought side by side, but we had never fully addressed the reality of who she had been—the lives she had taken, the person she had been molded into by Matheson’s organization.

“Yes,” I said simply. “All of it. Whenever you’re ready to share.”

Relief flickered across her features. She took my hand, leading me inside the cabin. The interior was rustic but comfortable. A worn leather sofa before the fireplace, a small dining table, handwoven rugs covering the pine floors. I lit the fire while Mia prepared a simple meal from the supplies we’d brought.

We ate in companionable silence, the crackling fire and gentle lapping of the lake against the shore our only music. When we finished, Mia curled beside me on the sofa, her body fitting perfectly against mine.

“I killed my first target when I was nineteen,” she began without preamble, her voice steady but distant. “A businessman in Calgary. Matheson told me he was selling military secrets to foreign governments, endangering Canadian troops overseas.”

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