Claire stopped, turning to look at him. She could see the turmoil in his expression, the war he was fighting within himself. He didn't want to do this. Neither of them did. But what choice did they have?
"If we run again," Claire said, her voice barely holding steady, "we'll never stop. We'll spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders."
Jake's gaze finally met hers, and the pain in his eyes nearly broke her. "And if we stay and fight," he said, his voice low, "we might not survive."
The truth of his words hung heavy between them. There was no easy answer, no perfect solution. Only a choice between two terrible options.
Claire sank onto the couch, her hands covering her face. "What are we going to do?"
Jake sat beside her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. He didn't say anything for a long time, and Claire leaned into him, trying to draw strength from his presence.
