(Blog Exclusive - For readers of The Retreat) 

Cassie

The safehouse wasn't safe.

Not in the way people meant it when they said the word, like it could be soothing. Not in the way therapists, government agents, or trauma counselors defined it. 

It was just... less dangerous. 

Cassie sat on the edge of the mattress, knees pulled up to her chest, and stared at the blank white wall in front of her. She'd counted the cracks in the paint a hundred times. A hundred and six, if she started in the top right corner. 

There were no pictures here. No sounds except for the low tick of the wall heater and the hum of the refrigerator two rooms over. She'd stopped leaving it stocked. The food kept going bad before she remembered to eat. 

She hadn't dreamed of the fire in three nights. 

Progress. 

Jude had left her here, not abandoned, just gone on a scouting run. He was always careful with his words. "I'm not disappearing, Cass. Just recon. Two days. Maybe three. If something feels wrong, you run. Burner to burner." 

He was looking for a place they could disappear for real. Somewhere remote. Cold. Off-grid. Somewhere, no one would come looking, because they wouldn't even know where to start. 

Cassie opened the drawer beside the bed. Pulled out the leather-bound notebook she wasn't supposed to have, the one she'd stolen from the back of the facility during the final evacuation. The one with partial logs. Names. Dates. Codes she couldn't quite translate. 

On the inside cover, someone had scrawled in dark pen: 

PHASE ONE COMPLETE 

PHASE TWO INITIATED -3.9.

No year. No signature. Just that. 

Cassie stared at it until her vision blurred. 

Phase two. 

Her hand hovered over the pages. Half of her wanted to burn the thing. The other half wanted to carve it into her skin until she remembered what came next.

The burner phone on the nightstand vibrated once. 

She didn't startle. She never startled anymore. Just moved. 

She snatched it up before the second buzz. 

UNKNOWN NUMBER - SECURE LINE 

She didn't answer right away. She held it against her chest, closed her eyes, and hoped the warmth could bring some peace. 

Then, quietly, "Yeah?" 

"Hey," he said. "You breathing?" 

"Mostly." 

"You eat?" 

"Define 'eat.'" 

He exhaled, not a sigh, just a sound. The kind of sound someone makes when they're counting all the things they wish they could fix with their hands.

"I found a place. Tennessee. Middle of nowhere. The closest town has more goats than people. No cell towers, no trail cams, no Deliverance banjo music... I think you'd hate it. You'll love it." 

"Sounds like a dream." 

There was a pause. 

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, quieter now. 

Cassie looked at the wall again. At the chipped paint. The notebook. The world kept spinning like nothing had happened. 

"No," she said. "But I'm sure I'm not dead. That feels like something." 

"It is," he said. "It's everything." 

Her throat tightened. 

"Jude?" 

"Yeah?" 

"If something happens—" 

"It won't." 

"But if it does," she pressed, "I need you to make sure this doesn't die with me." 

She heard the shift in his breathing. Listened to the muscles clench behind the silence. 

"Nothing's happening to you, Cass." 

"That's not a promise you can make." 

Another silence. 

"I'm not leaving you behind," he said. "Not again. Not ever." 

Cassie didn't answer. She just let the line stay open, static and all, until the fear in her chest stopped screaming. 

Phase two had begun. 

They just didn't know yet what it would cost.