Nobody in the room saw the Army officer who had run tactical logistics and asset security under fire.

Nobody in this house knew about Captain Keller or the sealed command envelope under my mattress with Directive 409-B inside.

What they saw was a pregnant girl stuck in a cold house, waiting for her family to take pity on her.

“The garage isn’t heated, Julian,” I said, my voice completely flat.

“It has concrete floors and a solid roof,” Julian said, moving aside as Harper came down the stairs with two heavy leather suitcases.

“That’s more than fair for somebody who isn’t chipping in on the household expenses.”