Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

SARAH

If you run, you might survive. If you stay, you’ll have to fight. James taught me that. But ever since we left the ranch, we’ve been constantly on the move. All we’ve done is run. Fighting wasn’t really an option.

When James shook me awake in the old library, we ran again. We only stopped running when the tall pines blocked the moonlight, and I could barely feel my legs.

Michael’s propped up against a tree, hands on his knees, sucking in air.

“I think we lost them,” he says between breaths.

Yeah, my brother might just win the “Optimist of the Year” award for that one. That’s usually my title.

James, on the other hand, shakes his head, and I can already tell he’s running through every mistake we made.

“They won’t give up that easy,” he mutters.

I glance around. The woods feel… alive. The trees and flowers sway like they’re whispering secrets, and fireflies drift between them as if carrying the messages. Under normal circumstances, I’d be in awe. But tonight? It feels like the forest is playing tricks on us, feeding every little fear in my head.

“Do you think they’ll find us here?” I whisper, because whispering keeps the monsters away. At least, that’s what my dad used to say when I was a kid. And right now, I need to believe that.

James cuts me a sharp look, his voice firm. “Stay here.”

And before I can argue—because I always argue—he heads back down our trail. He throws me a look over his shoulder that says, Don’t even think about following me, knowing damn well that’s exactly what I want to do.

I watch him until I can’t see him anymore. Every second he’s out of sight sends my heart into overdrive, and my brain starts playing out every nightmare I’ve ever had.

I hate it when he does this.

Michael nudges me with his shoulder. “He knows what he’s doing.”

I twist the straps of my backpack, trying to distract myself, then pull it off because my shoulders are screaming for mercy. I drop to the ground and lean back against a cold rock, hugging my knees to my chest. I wish I could calm down, but I can’t.

Michael sits down next to me, copying my every move, except his gaze doesn’t leave the spot where James disappeared.

Michael’s always been my anchor in moments like this. Sure, we argue a lot. We’re siblings, after all. But he’s still my anchor. I know he’d throw himself in front of anything to keep me safe, even if it’s from my own dumb decisions.

“I still can’t believe they didn’t catch us. We’re so lucky,” I say.

Michael gives me one of his serious stares. “Yeah, but luck runs out.”

Dear God. Great pep talk, Michael. I’ll add finding a four-leaf clover to our survival checklist.

Michael catches my worried look and tilts his head, giving me that half-smile he always uses to calm me down. “Don’t worry. I’ll always keep you safe.”

And for a second—a whole, glorious second—I actually believe him. Michael is doing his best “Dad” impression right now.

But that second vanishes, and Michael stiffens as if he just sensed something.

“Something’s not right,” he mutters.

That’s pretty much the understatement of the year. “Not right” is our new normal.

“What is it?” I ask.

“It’s too quiet.”

I stop and really listen.

He’s right. The woods feel… dead. No crickets. No owls. It’s like they know something we don’t.

Suddenly a twig snaps. Michael and I jump to our feet, muscles tight with instinct. Just as quickly, James steps out from the darkness, and the relief nearly knocks me over.

That relief doesn’t last long, though. His face is all urgency, and whatever he’s about to say, I already know it’s bad.

“We have to go. Right now!” James barks, and there’s no arguing with that tone.

Michael snatches his machete off the ground, and I grab my backpack, hurrying to keep up with James’s quick pace.

“They’re in the woods. Shit. They must’ve picked up our trail,” he says, his voice almost drowned by the squelch of our boots in the mud.

We sprint through puddles, ducking under low branches, and dodging roots. But no matter how fast we move, we can’t shake them.

The sound hits me first. A low rumble, growing louder.

Motorcycles.

I glance over my shoulder, and sure enough, headlights slice through the trees, lighting up the night.

I see Michael hot on my heels, batting away branches that claw at his arms. I’m doing the same, but not as gracefully. My hand catches on a jagged branch, sharp enough to cut, and hot blood streaks down as I bite back a cry.

As we break into a clearing, the motorcycles burst into view behind us, their headlights flooding the whole area.

“Hide!” James shouts.

I don’t think. I just dive headfirst into the nearest bush.

For a second, I focus on the rustling leaves around me, the faint scent of pine in the air. But the calm slips away.

Panic punches me in the chest when I realize I can’t see Michael anymore. And just when I think it can’t get any worse, I notice James is gone too.

I’m alone. Alone.

I watch as the gang gets off their bikes, headlights still glaring into the clearing. I catch sight of their jackets, and I’m pretty sure those dark stains aren’t paint. It’s dried blood.

Someone sparks a cigarette, and the brief flame lights up their faces, hard and mean, making every nerve in my body scream.

“They couldn’t have vanished,” one of them growls.

“No, they’re here. I can feel it,” another says.

Michael was right. Our luck has officially run out.

I crouch lower, pressing into the dirt and willing myself to disappear. My breaths come fast, but I’m trying, really trying, to stay quiet. But then I look down, and my mouth falls open as I suck in a shaky breath.

Blood.

Bright red drops seep into the dirt from the cut in my hand. And it’s not just sitting there. Oh no. It’s making a nice, shiny little trail. A trail that points straight to me!

Hansel and Gretel used breadcrumbs; I use blood.

The sound of footsteps snaps me out of it. One of them is getting closer, his mud-splattered boots coming into view as the stink of cigarette smoke makes my nose wrinkle.

I press my hand against my mouth, trying to muffle my breathing. My heart’s pounding so loud I’m half-convinced he can hear it. I don’t know if he’s seen my blood trail yet, but it’s right there for God and the world to see.

I take my eyes off him and squeeze them shut. I start counting: one, two, three… ten. But nothing happens. Counting to ten used to help, used to chase the fear away, but not anymore. Not tonight, at least.

The man’s boots stop inches from my hiding spot. He’s so close I can hear his heavy breathing. He bends down, the beam of his flashlight slicing through the bushes as he combs through them in silence.

The light lands on the bloodstained ground and—

“OVER HERE!”

A voice shouts from the clearing, and the man’s head jerks up. After a beat, he turns and heads back toward the voice.

I blow out the breath I’d been choking on.

But then another scream tears through the air, this one painfully familiar.

“Let go of me!”

“Michael.”

Just as his name leaves my lips, I see two of the gang dragging him into the clearing, one gripping each arm. They shove him forward, straight toward a huge man with a scar running down his cheek. Yeah, definitely the boss. He’s got that smug, untouchable look.

“Thought you could get away from us, huh?” the scar-faced man growls.

One of his men chuckles and bumps his shoulder, all cocky. “Go on, Brandon. Show him how it’s done.”

Brandon doesn’t need to be told twice. He slams his fist into Michael’s stomach, and my brother drops to his knees with a sickening thud.

No. No. No.

My hands fidget with the hem of my shirt as they circle him, taunting and pushing like a pack of hyenas closing in on their prey.

Brandon grabs Michael by the chin, yanking his head around like he’s inspecting a piece of meat. Then he starts punching Michael again, every blow landing hard on his face. Each hit feels like someone’s ripping out pages from my favorite book, one I can’t stop them from destroying.

“Where are your friends, boy?” Brandon spits out the words.

“You’ll never know.”

“Talk now, or it gets worse!”

Even on his knees, Michael glares up at him and spits a mouthful of blood onto Brandon’s boots. “That’s your answer.”

I’m proud as hell because my brother’s guts are unmatched, or, as James would call it, our family’s world-famous stubborn streak.

But pride doesn’t stop Brandon from throwing another punch, harder this time. Michael nearly topples, fighting to keep himself from collapsing.

“We’re gonna have some fun with you, boy,” Brandon says. “You’re our punching bag now.”

That gets them all laughing, nasty and cruel.

If fear had a sound, this would be it.

I can only watch as they tape Michael’s wrists so tightly it cuts into his skin. Every fiber in me wants to jump out of this bush and do something, but I’d only make it worse.

Brandon scratches the scar on his cheek, eyeing Michael with a guarded look.

“What are you doing in our territory, boy?” he asks.

“I just needed a place to rest. That’s all.”

My brother’s words are so simple, so true. That’s just who Michael is. But nobody believes the truth anymore.

“Bullshit!” Brandon shouts. “Who sent you? Tyler? We already made this month’s delivery. We didn’t break his rules.”

“I don’t know any Tyler,” Michael snaps back.

But Brandon doesn’t care about answers. His boot drives into Michael’s side with enough force to make me wince. Michael’s scream rips through the air, raw and broken. And I know that sound will haunt me forever.

I’m shaking when a hand suddenly grabs mine in the dark. I jump, heart slamming, until I look up and see him.

“James!”

“I’m right here.”

His eyes do that thing where they show too much at once—relief at finding me and guilt for our earlier separation. Then they drop to my hand, and everything shifts. One look at the blood dripping from my cut is all it takes. His face hardens, and I can almost see the fury sparking in his blue eyes. Nothing affects him quite like seeing me hurt. Turns out, James takes the whole “Don’t mess with my girl” thing very seriously. It’s one of the things that made me fall for him.

He pulls out a scrap of cloth from his pocket and wraps it around my hand.

“It’s not much, but it’ll stop the bleeding for now,” he says, tying the knot gently.

From the clearing, I hear Brandon bark, “One more time, where are the others?”

Michael, still on his knees, squares his shoulders. “I’m alone.”

Brandon raises his pistol and points it straight at Michael’s head. And with that, everything in me shuts down.

I stop breathing. I stop moving. I even stop blinking.

All I can see is that gun, and my whole world narrows down to Brandon’s finger, twitching slightly on that damn trigger.

“No more lies,” Brandon growls. “Time to say your prayers, boy.”

“STOP!”

The word bursts from my throat before I can stop myself. And suddenly, I’m on my feet, stepping out from my hiding spot.

Michael’s eyes snap to mine, wide with fear and a healthy dose of Are you kidding me?!

Brandon and his men whip their heads toward me. And just as my brain registers what a colossal mistake I’ve made, James yanks me back down and shoves some branches over us like it’s going to magically undo what I just did.

It’s too late, though. Brandon’s already wearing that smug, disgusting grin that makes my stomach churn. “What do we have here? A fucking girl!”

Way to go, Sarah, just great. Really helpful this time.

Sometimes, James is right about me. I can be like a butterfly when it comes to danger, always flying toward it instead of away from it.

“Find her!” Brandon barks at his gang.

“No!” Michael’s up in a flash, his hands still tied, but he doesn’t care. He charges like a damn bull, knocking two of Brandon’s men to the ground. But it’s short-lived. Brandon’s already there, landing a brutal punch to Michael’s stomach that sends him right back to his knees.

“Stay on the ground and shut your fucking mouth!” Brandon yells.

Michael groans, folding in on himself again.

I hear movement beside me. I glance over and see James, jaw tight, rummaging through his backpack with laser focus.

“Sarah, I need you to cause a distraction,” he says, pulling out a small bag of stones. He takes my trembling hand and presses the bag into my palm. “Run, throw these in different directions so they can’t track you. Then get to the bridge at the entrance of town. Hide there and wait for us.”

I swallow hard, my throat tightening as I look at him. I know he’s calculating the odds, always thinking ahead. That’s how he protects the people he loves. But it’s obvious now, this plan isn’t for all of us. It’s just for me.

“But Michael—”

“They’re after you now,” James cuts me off.

His grip on my hands tightens, and I think of the promise he made once in a cave, when everything felt dark and he held me together with nothing but his voice.

“I need you safe,” he says softly, his thumb brushing away the tears rolling down my cheeks, but more keep falling. “I’ll deal with this and bring Michael back to you.”

I shake my head. “I won’t fucking leave you.”

“This is the only way.”

Before I can argue, he gently cups my face with his big hand, pulling me into a kiss that steals the air from my lungs. Warmth rushes through me as he keeps his lips on mine just a little longer. But there’s a sadness in the way he kisses me, like he knows this might be the last time.

When he finally pulls away, he shakes his head, as if he’s fighting himself. “You’ve got to go.”

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” I hear Brandon taunt.

James lets go of my face and orders, “Go now!”

Two words. Two emotions. Two impossible decisions.

I clutch the bag, the edges of the stones pressing into my palm hard enough to hurt. I look back at Michael, my stomach twisting so hard I think I might throw up. The thought of losing him is unbearable…

No, don’t go there, Sarah. James has protected us before. Saved us. He’ll do it again.

I take one last look into James’s eyes, then I throw the first stone.

It hits a bush with a loud crack, sharp enough to snap the gang’s attention in that direction like a magnet.

“Is the kitty cat trying to escape?” Brandon calls, scanning for me.

I move quietly, ducking behind trees as I keep slinging stones in every direction to draw the gang away from Michael. Every step feels heavier, knowing I’m leaving him and James behind.

When I throw the last stone, I want to believe it’s the only way. I want to believe this will buy them time. I want to believe this will save us all.

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