The farmhouse felt smaller now, somehow. Like saying goodbye was already compressing it into memory rather than present reality.
Elliot's family had gathered in the main room—Zofia, Tomasz, Marek, Anika, and a dozen others who'd sheltered us for eight and a half months without asking questions we couldn't answer.
"Thank you," I said, the words feeling inadequate. "For everything. For the risk you took. For treating us like family when you had every reason to turn us away."
Zofia waved off the gratitude with a gesture that was pure maternal dismissal. "Family helps family. You helped Anika. We help you. Simple."
"It wasn't simple," Evelyn said quietly. "What you did could have destroyed everything you've built here. We won't forget that."
Elliot stepped forward, and for a moment we just looked at each other. The young man who'd been a fan of Mr. Angel. Who'd helped with Anika. Who'd given us sanctuary when the world was hunting us.
