Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

JAMES

My dad’s voice still lingers in my head like a ghost. “Stay away from cities,” he used to say, over and over again. Back then, I’d just roll my eyes and tune him out. But now, with Sarah in my life, those words are the law.

We always pick the safety of the woods over cities run by gangs, but when supplies get low, small towns become a necessary evil.

Today’s one of those days—low on food, low on options, and no choice but to take a risk.

The town’s welcome arch barely holds itself up, sagging above a short brick bridge like it finally quit trying.

A few signs of life catch my eye as we move down the main street: a dead bonfire, slapped-together barricades, windows smashed to hell. If I hadn’t spent almost twenty years walking through this same shit, I’d swear we were stepping into one of those old zombie movies I used to watch.

I chuckle at a faded billboard still bragging about a “forever-lasting” smartphone. Funny how it promised forever back then, and now smartphones aren’t even a thing anymore.

But in a place like this, smiles don’t last. Everything I see could be a threat. Everyone too.

Sarah, though, lives by an entirely different creed.

I’m always a few steps ahead of her, scanning alleys, checking every blind spot. If something feels off, I call out, ready to stop her from walking into trouble. But she never fucking listens to me, brushing off all my warnings. And every time, I’m torn between being impressed by how fearless she is and pissed off at her stubbornness. Probably a bit of both.

Sarah’s a magnet for trouble. And no, she’s not out there looking for it—at least, I don’t think she is. But for some reason I can’t explain, trouble seems irresistibly drawn to her, like a moth to a flame.

I mean, who am I to judge? I wasn’t much different from her before my dad died. If anything, I was even more reckless.

There’s a lot about my past I’ve never told Sarah. The darker parts. I don’t know if I ever will, but sometimes, I think she already knows. Every now and then, I catch her staring at my scars, as if she’s trying to piece together the violent story behind each one.

Yeah, we’ve had to scramble out of hideouts before and dive into new ones more times than I can count. And over the last year, I’ve thrown a few punches to keep us safe. But when it comes to the real horrors out there, the kind that keep you up at night, Sarah doesn’t have a clue. Michael doesn’t either, but he gets it a little more than she does.

Tonight, we’re camping out in an old library on a dead-end street. I chose it on purpose. I want to do something special for her. Last week in the cabin, she said she’d rather read than play cards. No surprise there.

That’s the thing about Sarah. Books aren’t just a way to kill time for her. Most people these days see books as firewood, good for roasting marshmallows and not much else. But not her. Books are her thing.

First thing in the morning, while I’m still half-asleep, she’s already got one in her hands, nose buried in a page. And every time she tries to cook, whatever she’s making ends up burned ’cause she’s too busy reading to notice.

Michael and I push open the heavy library doors, and it’s clear right away that nobody’s been in here for years. Moonlight slips through the busted roof, casting shadows that make the place feel haunted. The rugs are threadbare, cobwebs cling to what’s left of the chandeliers, and some of the shelves look like they can’t even hold the books anymore.

Once I’m sure we’re alone in the building, my eyes find Sarah. She wants to see everything, explore everything. She sees beauty where most people just see rotting wood and peeling paint. And I can’t get enough of this girl.

Sarah’s one of those people who’s easy to make happy. Maybe it’s ’cause she grew up sheltered on her dad’s ranch, or maybe she’s just built that way. Either way, I’m not complaining.

But I don’t let my guard down. The world’s not safe—not for anyone—but especially not for people like Sarah. She still trusts when she shouldn’t. And that makes her an easy target, which is exactly why I’ll put myself between her and anyone who tries to hurt her.

I lean against the wall, arms crossed, just watching her. She finds an old globe buried under a pile of junk, and her face lights up like a Christmas tree. She always gets that look whenever she discovers something new, something she’s never seen before. And I could watch her like this for hours.

She wanders deeper into the library, and I trail after her. We stop in front of a shelf full of romance novels. All of them are dusty and worn-out, their covers so faded you can barely read the titles.

Sarah crosses her arms, tilts her head, and scratches her chin deep in thought as she studies them. And I already know what she’s plotting. She’s doing the math, figuring out how many of these books she can sneak into my backpack without me noticing until the damn thing feels like I’m carrying bricks.

She catches my eye, walks over, and kisses me, grinning so wide she can barely hold it in. “Thank you for my present.”

“What present?”

“This!” She grabs three books at once and hugs them.

I laugh and pull her into a hug, books and all. “Next stop, chocolate.”

Ever since Sarah came into my life, it’s been nonstop action, like hanging out with someone who’s permanently over-caffeinated. Life with her is fun, wild, and exhausting in the best way. I’ve lost so much already, but there’s no way I’m losing her. Not ever.

About an hour later, I rip a few pages from some old math textbook no one ever wanted to read and use them to start a fire in this beat-up metal drum we found. The cold fades fast. We heat up a couple cans of mushroom soup over the flames, and for a second, just a quick one, it almost feels like we’re back at the ranch. Funny how something as simple as soup can make a place feel safe, even when it’s not.

But safety’s not just about walls and locks. It’s about who you’re with. And no matter where we crash—abandoned buildings, lakesides, rocky hills—Sarah always makes it feel like home. She pushes our sleeping bags together, spreads out blankets everywhere, and sets the kettle over the fire, making sure Michael and I have our coffee while she makes her chamomile tea, her favorite.

Michael’s at the window behind me, watching the shadows in the street. The way he’s gripping his machete tells me he’s ready for whatever decides to come our way. You don’t trust easy these days, but Michael’s the one person I never question. I trust him with my life, and I know he trusts me with his, too.

I’m sitting by the fire, hands stuffed in my jacket pockets to warm up, when my fingers brush against something cold. I pull it out and look at my dad’s old pocket watch. It’s quiet now, no ticking, just still and heavy in my hand.

I turn it over slow, tracing the engraved letters on the back: H-I-L-L. Our name.

Every letter brings back something about my dad.

Time’s a weird thing. You don’t realize how much the old man’s words meant until it’s too late. He used to give me all these lessons about life, most of which I shrugged off, thinking I knew better. Now, I’d give anything to hear his voice one more time. To have one more second with him.

Sarah slides between my legs and leans back against my chest, like she’s done a hundred times before. If anyone ever asks me if there’s anything good left in this godforsaken world, I’ll point straight at her.

My fingers find one of her braids, playing with it while I try to quiet the noise in my head. Life’s thrown its fair share of darkness at me, made me do things just to stay alive. But Sarah makes me want to be better.

I don’t always get it right, but I try.

I slip my father’s watch back into my pocket. My eyes stay locked on her heart-shaped face, on those bright green eyes that always undo me. She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts.

My heart pounds faster and every point of contact with her feels electric, feeding this need for her, beat for fucking beat.

She gives me a teasing smile. “If your heart keeps pounding like this, it might explode.”

My face heats up, and I press my lips together. She’s got me figured out, no question.

“I told you I’d find more books for you,” I whisper in her ear, “but I should’ve added a bed to that list for tonight.”

“James, my favorite place to sleep isn’t a bed. It’s right here, with you. I don’t need a bed. All I need is you.”

Fuck, her words make me want to taste every single part of her.

“But,” she sighs, “I do wish we had tents again. Then I could kiss you all night without my brother butting in, you know?”

Oh, I do know.

“I can make that happen,” I say, amused. “What color do you want the tents?”

“Yellow, like a sunflower.”

I grin. “Done.”

She tilts her head, playing innocent, but her expression is anything but. “So, while you’re busy with that, can I check out the town shops tomorrow?”

I chuckle. Should’ve known she had something else up her sleeve.

“What are you after this time?” I ask.

“I’m thinking of getting you a gift. Maybe some clothes.”

“For me? But I’ve got plenty of clothes.”

She shakes her head, that smile of hers turning wicked. “It’s not something for you to wear.”

My pulse jumps.

Fucking. Hot. Woman.

“Any favorite color?” she asks.

I close the distance between us and let her breathe in that pine scent that always clings to my clothes. “Your eyes.”

“Green?”

“Right on target.”

“Any other details I should keep in mind?”

“Lace, baby. Always lace.”

Her cheeks flush that gorgeous pink I’m addicted to. Watching her blush might be my favorite pastime.

I lean back, my fingers tracing slow lines along her neck. The calm in her breathing tells me she feels safe with me.

“James, tell me a secret.”

There’s no teasing in her voice, not this time. She actually wants to know.

“I like living, thanks,” I say with a smirk.

She groans, throwing her head back. Even when she’s annoyed, she’s cute as hell, making me want her even more, if that’s even possible.

“Please, James, come on. I won’t tell anyone. I swear I’ll keep it to myself.” Her voice drops to that pleading tone she knows I can’t resist.

“You promise, huh?” I raise an eyebrow, trying not to laugh at how serious she looks.

She nods slowly, eyes steady on mine. I hold her gaze, pretending to think about it way longer than I need to, just to mess with her, watching her fidget.

“All right,” I say, brushing her hair behind her ear, just so I can get closer. “I’ve memorized every single one of your freckles. Especially the one on your hip. You probably don’t even know it’s there. But I do. And I think about it more than I should.”

“You do?”

“Oh yeah, I do.”

She smiles, and that’s my reward.

After a beat, I shoot the question back at her. “Your turn. Tell me one of yours.”

Sarah smirks, crossing her arms over her chest and giving me that hard-to-get look she loves to use. “Make me.”

I take a deep breath, my eyes narrowing. She’s definitely trying to push my buttons. And I’m more than happy to let her.

I crack my knuckles slowly, then trail my hand down her neck and across her shoulder, tracing her body through her clothes. Her hands fall to her sides as I keep going, skimming over the curve of her breasts, then her stomach, stopping at her thigh.

Her breath hitches when I give it a firm squeeze.

“Tell me.”

“I snuck into your room the first night you stayed at my dad’s ranch. You were sleeping, so I left a piece of chocolate and snuck back out.”

I tilt my head. “Want to hear another secret?”

She nods, her green eyes locking with mine.

“I know. I saw you in my room.”

“Y-You saw me?” Her cheeks turn red in a second, and I laugh.

“I was awake, and you looked delicious… just like that chocolate you left for me.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “And yet it took you six months to finally taste me, huh?”

Six fucking months!

Six months of fighting what was so obviously meant to happen. And now, I can’t stand being away from her for a single second.

My hand slips under the hem of her shirt, my palm meeting the softness of her belly. She lets out this quiet sigh, and it’s the sweetest sound in the world.

“James,” she says, a smirk tugging at her lips, “about my freckles… You gonna tell me how many there are, or do you need a closer look to count again?”

I laugh, eyes flicking to Michael by the window, his back to us.

“You’re trying to get yourself in trouble, aren’t you?” I murmur. “If your brother wasn’t ten feet away… you already know exactly what I’d be doing to you.”

“Good thing he’s here then, huh? Or I’d be in serious trouble.”

I let my fingers slip just below the waistband of her shorts, down to the edge of her panties. I pull the elastic back and let it snap against her skin, leaving a faint warning mark.

She gasps, and I can’t help the satisfied smile that follows. I love the way she reacts to my warnings. It never gets old.

“Baby…” I whisper, my voice rough. “You already are.”

I dive into her mouth for a kiss. This one’s deeper, longer, more intense. It’s the kind of kiss that leaves nothing unsaid.

When we finally break apart, our foreheads stay pressed together, and she smiles at me.

She’s amazing, and she’s all mine.

◆◆◆

A little while later, Sarah falls asleep in my lap, her head resting on my chest like I’m her own personal pillow. I smile and gently wrap a blanket around her, careful not to wake her.

On the other side of the campfire, Michael settles into his sleeping bag.

“Long day,” he sighs.

“Every day’s long,” I say, glancing down at Sarah. “But she makes them worth it.”

Michael leans back against his backpack, watching his sister with that same fierce, protective look I remember from the ranch.

“We can’t keep dragging her through this,” Michael says, interrupting my thoughts. “It’s been seven days since we left the cabin, and we still haven’t found anything that feels halfway safe. I don’t mind roughing it, but my sister deserves more. I want her to have a real life again, or at least a safer one. We have to find a house or a community where we can settle down.”

By the time he finishes, he looks older, like the weight of the world’s sitting on his shoulders, carrying burdens no one his age should have to.

“You think I haven’t thought about that? That’s all I think about, Michael. But you don’t know what I’ve seen. You don’t know what people are capable of. Communities get overrun, and some houses look safe, until they’re not.” I swallow hard. “Sometimes the things you have to do to survive… they’re worse than what they do to you. The day you welcomed me to the ranch? That could’ve been your last. You didn’t know me. I could’ve been a monster. Out here, monsters are a lot more common than good men.”

My eyes drift to a tattered poster hanging on the wall behind him. The words are faded but still clear enough to read: “WHO ARE YOU: THE VILLAIN OR THE HERO?”

There are no right answers to that question in this world anymore.

Maybe I’m both.

“This world’s brutal,” Michael says, setting his machete down, still close enough to grab. “Everyone ends up doing things they never thought they’d do.”

I shake my head, eyes locked on the fire. “It’s not that simple, Michael. The things I’ve done… the choices I’ve made… I’ve crossed lines I never should’ve crossed.”

Michael looks over at Sarah, sound asleep in my lap, then back at me. “My dad’s last words to me were, ‘Protect your sister, Michael,’ and that’s what I’m going to do, no matter what.”

His innocence about what that promise really means, and what it could cost him, is both refreshing and unsettling. That kind of vow doesn’t come without a price. I know. I’ve paid it. And it leaves a mark you carry forever.

“You sure?” I ask, watching him closely. “You’ve never killed anyone. Once you cross that line, there’s no going back. Doesn’t matter why you do it. It sticks with you.”

I’m not trying to scare him, but he needs to understand what he’s signing up for. Violence like that changes you, whether you think it will or not.

He closes his eyes for a moment, maybe trying to come to terms with what he might have to do. When he opens them again, his gaze is harder. Stronger.

“I will, to protect Sarah,” he says, his voice steadier than I’ve heard in a long time.

I don’t say anything right away. I just grab the old math textbook next to me, tear out five more pages, and feed them into the fire, one by one.

I watch them curl, blacken, and turn to ash. It’s almost hypnotic how fast something solid can vanish, as if it never existed at all.

“We’ve been lucky so far, Michael. But luck doesn’t last forever. Sooner or later, it runs out.”

Michael drags a hand through his hair, a nervous tic I’ve seen a million times before.

“I think it’s time, James.”

I frown, turning to look at him. “Time for what?”

“To head north. To that town you told me about.”

I study him for a second. There’s no hesitation in his voice, no doubt in his stance. He’s ready, or at least he thinks he is.

“That town? I don’t know, man. What if it’s not as safe as people say?”

“Think about it, James. You’ve heard those stories from more than one person, right? They can’t all be making it up. Too many coincidences. There’s gotta be some truth to it.”

I let out a slow breath and nod. “Yeah. They said it’s here, in Colorado. A town up north that’s supposed to be safe, a place no gang ever took. It’s not on any map, but everyone repeats the same four words: ‘Plane, lake, mountain, train.’”

Michael’s face lights up. “That sounds perfect.”

Too damn perfect, if you ask me.

Still… hard to argue with the hope in his voice.

“But what if it’s not even in Colorado? What if that was just a cover, and it’s actually in Utah?” I say, thinking out loud.

Michael furrows his brow. “Utah?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Did your sister take all the geography lessons for you both?”

He laughs, and I just shake my head at him.

“Why bother learning that stuff when there aren’t any cities or countries left? Besides, all the stories say the town is here in Colorado. And if it’s here, we can find it.”

“Look, Michael, I get it. You want to believe there’s something better out there. We all do.” I pause, letting it sink in. “Your dad’s old ranch is just a few days away. At least here in the South, we know what to avoid. If we had a car to go north, maybe. But on foot? It could take weeks, maybe longer. And who knows what we’ll run into along the way.”

The last thing I want is to lead them, especially Sarah, somewhere I can’t keep them safe.

“What’s the name of the town?”

“They call it Northern Lights.”

“Never heard of a town called that in Colorado.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, so now you’re some kind of geography expert?” He chuckles. “New town, new name. That’s just how it goes now.”

“But why ‘Lights’?”

“Because apparently, they’ve got electricity. Real power. They say you can see the lights from a distance, like they’re guiding you there.”

“Shit, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that. Or if I did, I don’t remember, not even as a kid.”

He lets that thought hang in the air for a second, then shakes it off with a grin.

“Come on, man, let’s risk it just this once,” he says, all that impulsiveness flashing in his eyes, the kind that clearly runs in his family.

I give him a long look. “If I say no, are you gonna keep bugging me until I say yes?”

Michael nods. “Absolutely.”

I stare at the fire for a moment. Everything in me wants to keep her safe, not risk the unknown. But maybe Michael’s right. We can’t keep hiding forever.

I exhale, already regretting this. “Fine.”

Michael’s grin widens. “So, are we going?”

“Yeah, we’re going,” I say, his dumbass grin pulling a reluctant smile out of me. “You really like giving me headaches, don’t you?”

“Ever since I caught you with my sister, it’s been one of my daily quests.”

I bite down on my lip as guilt creeps up on me. I know what I’ve done. I broke the one code every guy’s supposed to follow: don’t fall for your best friend’s sister.

But when I look down at Sarah, still sleeping in my lap with my arms around her, I know I’d break that goddamn code again and again for her.

My gaze lands on the machete beside Michael’s boots. “To get there, we’d need to be ready. Machetes and knives aren’t gonna cut it this time. We’ll need rifles, ammo.”

“I think—” Michael starts, but he cuts himself off and stands.

“What’s wrong?”

I barely get the words out before I hear it too. A low, distant growl of motorcycles. Too many of them.

Shit! Not again.

Michael doesn’t waste a second. He stomps out the fire with one hard kick, plunging us into darkness.

I nudge Sarah, and her eyes fly open. She blinks, dazed, instinctively grabbing the edge of my jacket.

“James?” she breathes.

“We’ve got company.”

We start grabbing our stuff, moving as fast as we can. I roll up the sleeping bags and shove them into my pack, not giving a damn if they’re folded right. Then, I snatch up the old mugs we’ve been lugging around forever. Meanwhile, Sarah’s cramming her new books and the blankets into her backpack. The zipper’s holding on for dear life.

“Time to go,” Michael mutters, his voice so low I barely catch it. But honestly, he doesn’t have to say a word. One look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know.

“Boys, they’ll know we were here,” Sarah says.

I take a quick look around our camp, scanning the dying embers and scattered gear we couldn’t grab. She’s right, and we all know it. It’s like we’ve just left breadcrumbs for the wolves.

“No choice now,” I say, grabbing Sarah’s hand and pulling her with me. “They’re already here.”

I yank her behind a toppled bookshelf just as the library door creaks open.

Four men walk in, and they’re all armed. Unlike us.

“Home sweet home!” one of them shouts.

Shit! A gang.

I clench my jaw so hard I can practically hear it.

Sarah’s pressed between Michael and me, dead silent, but I can see her chewing on the inside of her cheek. She only does that when she’s tense.

“We need to get out before they notice our camp,” I whisper to her.

The gang is too busy talking to notice us yet, so I move quietly across the trash-strewn floor toward the emergency exit. It’s our only way out.

I nod for Sarah and Michael to follow, and they start moving my way. My hand grips the rusty door handle, and I ease it open, only for the damn thing to let out the loudest, most godawful creak, like something straight out of a bad horror movie.

I freeze, and Sarah flinches at the sound, stopping mid-step. Behind her, Michael’s already got his machete halfway up.

For a moment, I’m sure it’s over, that we’re caught.

I glance back, expecting to meet their eyes, but the gang doesn’t even look in our direction. They’re still too caught up in their own conversation, completely unaware.

I grab Sarah’s hand again, and this time, I don’t look back.

We slip into a narrow alley, its moss-covered cobblestones muffling our steps, or at least I hope they do.

Sarah’s grip on my hand tightens, her fingers squeezing so hard they’re nearly cutting off my circulation. Every squeeze is a silent scream she won’t voice, trying to stay brave for me. But I know exactly what this brings back. Memories from that last night we ran from the ranch.

I pull her closer as we dash toward the edge of town, where the cracked concrete finally gives way to the cover of the forest. The trees should give us a chance to hide. But angry shouts erupt behind us, crushing that hope in an instant.

“Motherfuckers! Somebody has been here. Fan out!”

My chest tightens, and that familiar, primal instinct kicks in. The predator in me wakes up, but this time, we’re not the hunters.

We’re the prey.

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