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There was nowhere left to hide. She had no idea where they’d go from here.

But as they waited for the police to get their statements, Devon realized something even more frightening.

Whoever was behind this wasn’t just trying to kill her anymore. They were willing to kill anyone standing in their way. And as she let herself become enveloped in Blake’s comforting, warm embrace, Devon knew.

They won’t stop until we’re both dead.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Later that night . . .

Devon had never been so grateful for silence.

There were no alarms blaring. No sirens wailing. No strangers shouting orders while smoke poured from a burning building.

And, thank God, no gunshots.

Just the occasional creak of an old farmhouse settling around her and the distant hum of a heating system working against the October chill.

This is more than a farmhouse.

It was a secluded property owned by Echo Team.

She stood beside the bedroom window, staring into the darkness beyond the glass. Somewhere outside, two R.I.S.C. operatives were patrolling the property. Emmett had assured them the safe house was secure. And after everything that had happened, Devon wasn’t about to question his judgment.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that danger had followed them.

They’d spent nearly three hours answering questions outside Blake’s apartment building before police finally released them. Lincoln had handled most of the complicated explanations, but Devon had still been forced to recount every one of the terrifying moments to the best of her memory.

Somehow, she’d managed to keep her composure through the entire interview. But now—in this strange room in a strange house in the middle of nowhere alone—she was beginning to unravel.

A soft meow drew her attention toward the upholstered chair near the fireplace. Willow made herself comfortable on a folded blanket, apparently deciding the accommodations met her standards.

“Glad one of us is enjoying this little vacation,” Devon muttered.

The cat blinked and tucked her nose beneath her tail.

Devon shook her head.

Must be nice.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, followed by a light knock against the open door. She turned her head and smiled.

Blake stood there holding two bottles of water and a small overnight bag. He’d changed into jeans and a black T-shirt. Despite the exhaustion evident on his face, the sight of him made her heart do the same flutter it always seemed to do when he entered a room.

“I come bearing gifts.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Please tell me you brought chocolate.”

“Sorry. Just water. And a few things Gwen thought you might need.”

He set one bottle of water on the dresser and the bags on the king-sized bed.

“So what do you think?” He glanced around the room. “A little rustic for my taste, but it’s not bad. And the security here is solid.”

“It’s nice.” She managed a smile as he moved closer.

“How’s the shoulder?”