Imminent Danger‌. 差し迫った危険。.

 Imminent Danger‌. 差し迫った危険。.

Outside, the wind moves the branches of the pines. The sound enters through the half-open window. A creak. Then another.

I sit up slowly. My muscles ache after hours of driving. I set my feet on the wooden floor. The plank groans under my weight.

I wait. I listen.

Only the wind.

I rise and walk toward the bedroom door. The hallway is dark. Moonlight streams through the window at the end, casting a pale rectangle on the floor.

I reach the entrance to the living room. The stone fireplace stands out against the dimness. The furniture are quiet shadows.

I peer out the front window. The car is where I left it. Beyond, the black iron gate. And beyond that, the dirt road winding between the trees.

Nothing moves.

I return to the hallway. I stop before Sam’s bedroom door. I open it slowly. Inside, the child’s breathing is steady. He has curled up beneath the blue blanket. Emma sits in a chair by the window, gazing outward.

She turns as I enter.

—You’re not sleeping?—she asks in a whisper.

—I can’t.

—Sit down.

I step in and close the door behind me. I sit on the edge of Sam’s bed. He doesn’t stir.

—I’ve been watching the forest for an hour—Emma says—. No lights. No cars. Nothing.

—That’s good.

—Or maybe it means they’re waiting for us.

—I don’t think so. If they knew we were here, they’d already come.

Emma nods. She rises from the chair and sits beside me on the bed.

—Sam slept all night. Didn’t wake up when you got up.

—He’s exhausted.

—We all are.

We sit in silence for a moment. Sam’s breathing fills the room.

—What do you think?—Emma asks.

—I think we should stay here a few days. Let everything calm down.

—And then?

—Then we decide. We could head west. Reach Vancouver. Or cross back into the U.S. somewhere they aren’t expecting us.

—What about Detective Mitchell?

—She doesn’t know we’re in Canada. She has no jurisdiction here.

—But the organization does.

—The organization operates in the U.S. Here, they don’t have the same reach.

Emma bites her lip.

—I don’t want to spend the rest of my life running, Jack.

—We won’t.

—How do you know?

—Because I’m going to find a way to end this.

—How?

—I don’t know yet. But I will.

She looks at me. Her eyes gleam in the dark.

—I trust you.

—I know.

—Sometimes I think it’s insane. That I should’ve left with Sam when I had the chance.

—Why didn’t you?

—Because I know you. Because I know who you really are. Because before all of this, before you erased your memory, you promised me you’d always protect us.

—I don’t remember that promise.

—But I do.

Sam stirs in bed. Murmurs something in his sleep. Emma strokes his hair.

—We should get some rest—she says.

—You sleep. I’ll keep watch.

—Are you sure?

—Yes.

Emma lies down beside Sam, closes her eyes.

—Jack.

—What?

—Thank you.

—You’re welcome.

I wait until her breathing becomes regular. Then I rise slowly and leave the room.

I return to the living room. I sit on the sofa facing the fireplace. The wood creaks under my weight. I watch the moonlight shadows cast on the wall.

The phone Valeria gave me is in my pocket. I pull it out and set it on the coffee table. The screen is black.

I could call her. Ask if there are updates. But I don’t have her number. She calls me.

I run my fingers along the edge of the phone.

The silence is thick. Heavy.

I lean back on the sofa. Rest my legs on the table. Eyes fixed on the window.

The hours pass slowly.

The moon moves across the sky. The shadows shift position.

At some point, sleep begins to overtake me. My eyelids grow heavy. I blink. Blink again.

A sound wakes me.

A sharp knock. Distant. Like a door closing.

I sit up instantly. My heart pounds. I listen.

Silence.

I wait.

Nothing.

The wind. Only the wind.

But sleep is gone.

I rise from the sofa. Cross the room. Reach the front door. Place my hand on the handle. The wood is cold.

I open the door slowly.

Night air rushes in. Smelling of pine and damp earth. The sky is clear. Thousands of stars glitter above the forest.

I step onto the porch. Bare feet on the wood. I look toward the gate. Toward the road. Toward the trees.

Everything is still.

Too still.

I descend the porch steps. Walk toward the car. Pebbles pinch my soles. I reach the vehicle. Rest a hand on the hood.

It’s cold.

I look around. The forest surrounds the house on all sides. The pines rise like dark columns. Moonlight barely pierces through the branches.

A creak.

From the east. Behind the house.

I freeze. Strain my ears.

Another creak. Closer.

I move toward the corner of the house. Press my back against the wall.