Page 83 of Shadow

She set down her coffee cup. “There’s a fall dance tonight. At the community center. Seven p.m. I’d like to go.”

Daphne looked up. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re in witness protection. Because after the potluck, pushing our fortune with a second appearance is the opposite of covert.”

“It’s been two weeks. No incidents. No threats.” Destiny’s voice stayed calm. “If we never leave this house, if we never participate, the neighbors are going to think we’re hostages.”

“We are hostages,” Roger muttered.

Daphne shot him a look. He looked away.

“It’s not safe,” Daphne said.

“Nothing’s safe. But sitting in this house for a month isn’t operational security. It’s prison. And eventually someone’s going to notice we never socialize.” Destiny paused. “The whole point of this cover is looking normal. We’re supposed to be your family. Your mother. A mother who wouldn’t miss a community event.”

She had a point. Two weeks since the potluck. Two weeks of being hermits. Two weeks of declining invitations.

Yeah, sometime soon, someone was going to start asking questions.

Daphne looked at Asher. He’d been quiet. Watching. “What do you think?”

He set down his fork. “I did a check after we first moved in. It’s good. Cameras on all entrances. Only two exits. Easy to control. We’d be fine tonight.” He paused. Looked directly at her. “Then maybe we go. Show our faces. Play the happy family.”

Daphne wanted to argue. Wanted to say no. Wanted to keep control.

But she looked at Asher’s calm expression. Maybe she was overreacting.

Fine.

“If Asher says it’s okay, then we’ll go.”

Asher’s eyebrows rose slightly. Surprise flickered.

Then he smiled. Small. Genuine. Something warm in his eyes that washed all the way through her.

“Thank you,” Destiny said.

Roger just grunted.

A knock sounded at the door.

Daphne’s hand nearly went to her weapon, but hello, who did she expect? It was probably the notorious villain Ruthie with a batch of cookies.

Maybe Asher saw her jump, because he wore a tight smile, barely hidden under his coffee cup. She got up and checked the peephole.

Today, Ruthie wore purple yoga pants and a white T-shirt with Namaste written in flowing script. She held two travel mugs steaming in the November air.

Daphne opened the door, and a cool breeze rushed in, carrying the smell of someone’s fireplace and fallen leaves. “Morning, Ruthie.”

“Morning! I made too much coffee. Thought you might want some.” Ruthie held out a travel mug. “It’s hazelnut.”

Oh. Um. “Thank you.” She took one.

“Is Asher around? I could use some help moving some boxes the movers put on a high shelf, and I thought⁠—”

“He’s finishing breakfast. Give him five minutes?”