Please...

I slammed on the brakes hard enough to regret it instantly.

The Jeep fishtailed, tires screaming as the back end kicked out before snapping back into line. The seat belt locked across my bruised ribs and tore a cry out of me. My palm struck the horn.

It blared once.

Then nothing.

Just the engine idling. My hands locked around the wheel as if letting go would take everything else with it.

“Sasha…”

It barely came out.

I twisted in my seat, ignoring the way my ribs protested, scanning the road behind me like she might just appear—like she’d be tearing down the asphalt, ears back, closing the distance.

“Come on,” I said, quieter this time. “Come on, girl…”

Nothing.

The road curved out of sight, empty.

Wrong.

My throat tightened. My eyes burned.

Think.

If I went back—

They’d be there.

The agents. Crossroads. The ones who smiled while they decided what to take.

If I went back, I wouldn’t just lose her.

I’d lose everything.

Rachel.

Francine.

Whatever chance I had left of fixing any of this.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Please,” I muttered. “Just… be smarter than me.”

Because she was.

Sasha didn’t run.

She stayed. She waited.

Unless something made her leave.

That thought settled in deeper than anything else.

Not lost.

Taken.

The sirens in the distance decided it for me.

I threw the Jeep into gear and took off.

I didn’t stop driving.

Didn’t slow down enough to think about where I was going or why. I just needed distance—something between me and that place that felt solid enough to pretend I still had control over something.

Trees blurred past. The road stretched and twisted like it didn’t care whether I followed it or not.

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I kept adjusting my grip like that might fix it.

“They’re tracking you.”

The thought came out of nowhere and stuck.

I let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “Of course they are,” I said. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

I glanced around the Jeep, scanning for anything out of place.

Nothing.

“Good,” I said, even though it didn’t feel good. “Track me. Let’s see how that works out for you.”

It sounded braver than it felt.

I turned off onto a narrow side road without signaling, gravel crunching under the tires as the trees closed in tighter around me.

No destination.

Just not there.

A few miles in, I saw the car.

Black sedan. Parked crooked on the shoulder. Driver’s door open.

Every instinct I had told me to keep going.

Then Sam stepped out from behind it.

Relief hit so fast it almost made me dizzy.

I braked more carefully this time, pulled alongside her, and shoved the Jeep into park.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, already climbing out.

Sam ignored the question. Her eyes traveled over my swollen face, the blood on my lip, and the red bands around my wrists. Then she saw the shattered rear window.

“Where’s Sasha?”

That hit harder than the seat belt.

I looked away. “She’s gone.”

Sam’s voice softened. “Gone how?”

“She was there when I went inside. When I got back, the window was broken and she wasn’t.”

Sam glanced at the man in the suit.

He gave a small nod.

“They took her,” she said.

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

Her attention returned to me. “You look like hell.”

“It’s been a day.”

“What are you doing out here?” I asked again.

“Looking for you.”

I looked between her and the man in the suit, something clicking into place a second too late.

“Wait,” I said. “I thought I told you to move out.”

Sam didn’t even blink. “I was never good at listening to authority.”

The man in the suit made a small face, like he’d just been handed an opening he couldn’t resist.

“I can vouch for that,” he said.

I stared at both of them. “So instead you decided to what—ignore me and follow me around?”

“I knew you were in trouble,” Sam said. Not defensive. Not apologizing. Just stating it like it was obvious. “I couldn’t just leave you.”

“How?” I snapped. “I didn’t even know I was in trouble.”

She held my gaze a second longer than she needed to.

“I grew up in a different kind of world,” she said.

That could’ve meant anything.

Except the man in the suit shifted slightly beside her—just enough, just a look—and suddenly it felt like it meant a lot more than she was saying.

I exhaled, shaking my head. “Yeah. I’m starting to pick up on that.”

The man in the suit slammed the trunk closed.

There was blood on him—dark and drying against the fabric, not fresh, but not something you ignored either. He shut the door quietly and studied me the same way he had before.

“You kept moving,” the man said.

“You’re the one who cut me loose.”

“Getting you out of the room was my job. What happened after that was up to you.”

Sam crossed her arms. “He called me after you went inside. We agreed to meet here if he managed to get you out.”

I looked between them. “You had me followed?”

“I had him keep an eye on you,” Sam said.

“And how did you get ahead of me?”

“He knows these roads better than you do.”

The man didn’t react.

“Apparently everyone does,” I muttered.

“You were there?”

“You weren’t exactly giving me a chance to stop you.”

“Yeah, well,” I said, gesturing vaguely, “next time I’ll send an invite.”

The man in the suit didn’t react.

“They’ll be looking for you,” he said.

“They already are.”

A beat.

“Good.”

I blinked. “Good?”

“Means their attention is behind us instead of where we’re going.”

“That supposed to make me feel better?”

“No.”

At least he was honest.

A breeze moved through the trees, barely strong enough to stir the leaves.

And there it was again.

That feeling.

Like something had noticed me.

Not passing interest.

Focused.

“You feel that?” I asked.

Sam frowned. “Feel what?”

The man in the suit was already looking past us, toward the tree line.

“Stay here,” he said.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “That’s been working out great for me.”

He crossed the road anyway, moving without hesitation, without noise, like this part didn’t bother him at all.

Sam and I watched him go.

“You trust him?” she asked quietly.

“No,” I said. “But I trust that he doesn’t want me dead yet.”

“Comforting.”

“Right?”

The silence stretched.

Not empty.

Waiting.

Then he stopped.

Just… stopped.

I didn’t like that.

“Stay,” Sam said.

“Yeah,” I said, already moving. “Not doing that.”

I crossed the road.

The smell hit me before I saw it.

Metallic. Rotting.

Wrong.

I slowed, my stomach already tightening.

“It’s dead,” the man in the suit said without turning.

“Yeah,” I said. “I got that part.”

It was a deer.

Or what was left of one.

Something had opened it up and left it there like it lost interest halfway through. The ground around it was torn apart—leaves scattered, dirt clawed back like whatever happened here had been fast and violent and over before it could mean anything.

I glanced back toward the trees.

That feeling again.

Stronger now.

Like whatever had done this wasn’t far.

“Coyotes?” I asked.

“Maybe,” he said.

But he didn’t sound convinced.

I swallowed.

I looked back at the carcass.

This wasn’t Crossroads. It wasn’t men with guns or women carrying restraints.

This was something else.

“Whatever did this,” I said, “wasn’t hungry.”

“Or it was interrupted,” he replied.

That didn’t help. Not even a little.

He turned back toward the road.

“We need to go.”

“Yeah,” I said quickly, backing away. “Yeah, I’m good with that.”

But the feeling followed us.

“We need to move,” the man in the suit said.

“Where?” I asked.

“Somewhere that isn’t here.”

“They’ll find us anyway.”

“Eventually.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“No,” he agreed. “It isn’t.”

Sam stepped closer. “Bodhi, we need to think this through.”

“I have,” I snapped. “They’re hunting Rachel. They’ve got Francine. Now they’ve taken Sasha.” What exactly are we thinking through?”

“That running straight at them might not be the move.”

“It’s the only move.”

The man in the suit watched me for a long moment.

Then—

“Inside Crossroads, I heard them mention a second location.”

I looked at him. “The farm.”

Sam frowned. “What farm?”

“We don’t know,” I said. “But I think it’s where they take people.”

“They’ll expect you to go there,” the man said.

“Good,” I replied. “Saves me the trouble of surprising them.”

A siren cut through the air.

Closer now.

Sam turned. “We need to go. Now.”

I hesitated.

Just for a second.

My eyes drifted back toward the trees.

Nothing there.

But that feeling—

Still there.

Watching.

Waiting.

“Bodhi.”

I forced myself to move. “Yeah,” I said. “Let’s go.”

The man nodded toward my Jeep.

“Leave it.”

“That’s worked out well for me before.”

“If they planted a tracker, let it keep telling them you’re here.”

I looked at the shattered window. The empty back seat.

“Fine,” I said. “They can have it.”

We moved fast.

Sam slid into the driver’s seat. The man in the suit took the passenger side.

I hesitated for half a second before climbing into the back.

As the car pulled away, the sirens grew louder.

Then they passed us.

Fast.

Not slowing.

Not turning.

Going somewhere else.

I watched them disappear ahead of us, something cold settling in my chest.

“That’s not for us,” I muttered.

No one said anything.

I looked out the rear window.

The road stretched behind us, empty.

Then—

For just a second—

A figure stood at the edge of the trees.

Still.

Watching.

Gone before I could focus.

I leaned back slowly.

“Okay,” I said under my breath.

“Now I’m definitely losing my mind.”

No one argued.

The road carried us forward.

Toward whatever was already waiting.