Five minutes after I buried my father, the gravedigger pulled me aside to whisper the coffin underground was empty, pressed a brass key marked 17 into my hand, and begged me not to go home—right as my mother, standing thirty yards away pretending to grieve, texted me three cold words: Come home alone.

"Mom?" I said, my hand tightening around the phone. "Where are you?"

"Ethan, please," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You have to get out of there. They know about the safe house. They're sending people. You have maybe ten minutes. Fifteen at the most."

Dad was already on his feet, moving through the house, checking windows, gathering what little we had.

"How do you know this?" I demanded.

"Because I'm with them," she said, and I could hear tears in her voice. "I told you, Ethan. I made a deal. But I didn't know they were going to kill you. I thought... I thought they just wanted your father. I thought you'd be safe."

"You thought wrong."

"I know," she sobbed. "I know, and I'm so sorry. Ethan, baby, I'm so sorry. But you have to run. Now. Before they get there."

"Mom, tell me where you are," I said. "We can come get you. We can protect you."

"No," she said firmly. "It's too late for me. I made my choice. But it's not too late for you and your father. Go out the back. There's a wooded area behind the house. Follow the creek until you hit the old highway. Someone will be there to meet you. I sent them."

"Who?"

"A friend," she said. "Someone you can trust. Now go, Ethan. Please. Go before it's too late."

The line went dead.

Dad was already at the back door, holding a bag he'd stuffed with clothes and the external hard drive he'd copied from the server.

"Was it her?" he asked.

I nodded. "She says they're coming. Ten minutes. We need to go out the back."

He didn't hesitate. He didn't question it.

"Let's move."

We slipped out the back door into the darkness.

The wooded area behind the house was thick with trees and underbrush. The moon was hidden behind clouds, making it almost impossible to see. We stumbled through the darkness, branches slapping at our faces, the sound of our own breathing loud in our ears.

I thought of my mother.

She'd betrayed us. She'd made a deal with monsters.

But she'd also just warned us. She'd just saved our lives.

Nothing was black and white anymore.

We found the creek and followed it, the sound of rushing water covering the sound of our footsteps. My legs burned, my lungs screamed, but I kept running.

Ten minutes. That's what she'd said.

We had to keep moving.

We reached the old highway about fifteen minutes later.

It was deserted, the asphalt cracked and overgrown with weeds. Streetlights flickered weakly, casting long shadows across the road.

"Now what?" Dad panted, leaning against a guardrail.

Before I could answer, a pair of headlights appeared in the distance.

A single car, moving slowly.

Dad tensed, grabbing my arm.

We stood there, frozen, as the car approached.

It stopped a few feet away from us.

The window rolled down.

"Ethan?" a man's voice called out.

I stepped forward cautiously.

"Who are you?"

"Your mother sent me," he said. He was in his fifties, gray hair, kind eyes, wearing a worn flannel shirt. "Name's Tom. I'm an old friend of the family. She said you'd need a ride."

"How do we know we can trust you?" Dad asked, his voice wary.

Tom reached into his pocket and pulled something out. He tossed it to Dad.

Dad caught it.

A photo.

I leaned in to look.

It was a picture of my parents, much younger, standing with this same man at what looked like a backyard barbecue. All three of them were smiling, young and happy, with no idea of the nightmare ahead.

"We go way back," Tom said. "Your mom saved my life once, a long time ago. Said it was time I repaid the favor. Now get in. We don't have much time."

We got in.

Tom drove fast, taking back roads I'd never seen before, weaving through the countryside like he knew every turn by heart.

"Where are we taking us?" I asked from the back seat.

"Somewhere safe," Tom said. "A friend's cabin up in the mountains. Hale's people won't find you there. We'll lay low until your FBI friends can figure out their next move."

"And Mom?" I asked. "What happens to her now?"

Tom was quiet for a long time.

"She knew the risks," he said finally. "When she warned you, she signed her own death warrant. Hale doesn't forgive betrayal. Not even from someone who was working for them."

My stomach dropped.

"We have to go back for her," I said. "We can't just leave her there."

"Ethan," Dad said gently. "There's nothing we can do for her right now. If we go back, we'll all be killed. And then all of this was for nothing."

"I don't care!" I shouted. "She's my mother!"

"And she made her choice!" Dad shouted back. "She chose to make a deal with the devil. And now she has to live with the consequences."

"She just saved our lives!"

"Because she felt guilty!"

"Enough!" Tom's voice cut through our argument, sharp and firm. "Both of you. Arguing isn't going to help anyone. We need to focus on staying alive right now. We can figure out the rest later."

We fell silent.

I stared out the window at the passing darkness, my mind racing.

My mother was in danger. Because of me. Because she'd chosen to save me instead of staying loyal to the people who'd terrified her for twenty years.

I couldn't just leave her.

No matter what she'd done.

No matter what anyone said.