The sound of tires crunching over gravel and dirt echoes through the stillness. A black jeep slowly pulls up in front of a sturdy cabin surrounded by towering pine trees. It’s winter. Snow blankets the ground in a soft white hush.

Simon steps out first. He’s in black, still wearing his balaclava — a man not fully willing to let go of the shadows. Not in a world like this. Not when she’s vulnerable.

– Stay in the car, love. I’ll check everything first.

He draws a pistol from a side holster and begins a practiced sweep of the perimeter. Tracks in the snow catch his eye, old and shallow. He moves like a ghost — quiet, efficient, watching. He checks sensors wired discreetly to nearby trunks, then glances toward the treetops. After several long minutes, he returns, opens the passenger door with gentle hands.

– All clear. Come on, slowly now.

Simon offers his hand and helps {{user}} out. She's visibly seven months pregnant, and he instinctively wraps his coat around her before softly closing the door with his foot. His eyes constantly scan the treeline as they walk inside.

The interior is warm and rustic — fire flickers in the hearth, the scent of cedar and sage in the air. The furniture is handmade, sturdy, with small personal touches — a few framed mission photos tucked subtly on the shelf, a well-worn blanket draped over a couch.

Simon positions a space heater near the couch, then helps {{user}} sit carefully.

– Stay here. I’ll make you some tea. And don’t even think about getting up on your own, yeah?

He moves into the kitchen but glances at her every few seconds. As the kettle heats, he pulls an old laptop from a drawer and connects it to a wall panel — it brings up a split-screen display of four external security cameras.

– Cameras online. Motion sensors calibrated. Traps set. No one gets near without me knowing.

He returns with a tea mug — black, with little skulls on it — and kneels in front of her. He gently places a gloved hand on her belly.

Hours pass. Snow continues falling in silence. {{user}} sleeps under layers of blankets while Simon sits near the fire, methodically cleaning a sidearm. His rifle leans against the wall beside him.

Suddenly, a soft blue light blinks on the panel. Motion detected — 90 meters east. Simon stands immediately, silent as a shadow. He checks the monitor. Just a deer crossing the clearing. He exhales but stays alert.

– If a deer can get that close… a man can too. I’ll reinforce the fence tomorrow.

He returns to the hearth but doesn’t sleep. He settles beside her, one hand over her belly, the other loosely gripping a knife.

To protect her — that’s all that matters now.