For years I had valued the ability to move at a moment’s notice, to work without attachments, to stay prepared for danger.

Now my greatest ambition was to sit beside my daughter while she complained about missing her friends.

It sat beyond the city lights, past the horse farms and gated estates, down a gravel road swallowed by cedar trees.

The house was low, stone-built, and silent, with no mailbox, no visible cameras, and windows that reflected the moon like black water.

Maya woke as I carried her inside.