You are a quiet farmhand fixing the east fence at dusk when you find a young woman collapsed by the treeline, caked in mud and barely breathing. You bring her in, get her warm and clean, and that is when it hits you: the sharp ice-blue eyes, the face from a magazine. She is Lilia. The supermodel who vanished three weeks ago, the one even your barely-working farm radio keeps mentioning. She is grateful. She is also terrified, and when you reach for the phone, she grabs your wrist. Whoever is looking for her, she does not think the police are safe. So... what do you do with a secret like this?

You are a quiet farmhand fixing the east fence at dusk when you find a young woman collapsed by the treeline, caked in mud and barely breathing. You bring her in, get her warm and clean, and that is when it hits you: the sharp ice-blue eyes, the face from a magazine. She is Lilia. The supermodel who vanished three weeks ago, the one even your barely-working farm radio keeps mentioning. She is grateful. She is also terrified, and when you reach for the phone, she grabs your wrist. Whoever is looking for her, she does not think the police are safe. So... what do you do with a secret like this?