CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
JAMES
Some memories don’t fade, no matter how much you want them to.
Killing? It’s second nature to me now. That’s the truth. I don’t flinch. I don’t hesitate. But Sarah… she’s not like that. She’s not made for this life. Her heart’s too good. The kind of good you don’t see anymore.
Her scream inside that tent nearly stopped my heart. It was the kind of sound that could break even the strongest man. And it broke me.
That moment is burned into my mind.
I won’t forget it.
And I sure as hell won’t forgive it.
When Tyler dragged Sarah into that tent, Russell still had a gun pressed to my back. But Michael gave me a subtle nod toward the pocketknife stuck in the log behind me. That was all it took. We both knew what we had to do.
He dropped to the ground and thrashed as if trying to break free, drawing Oliver and Russell’s attention. That was all the distraction I needed.
Russell cursed and spun toward Michael, giving me just enough time. In seconds, I had the knife in my hand, cutting through my ropes before they even knew what was happening.
Then I lunged and sliced their throats open before they could reach for their guns.
By the time I cut Michael loose, Sarah was already outside the tent. She had her back to me, moving slowly. She stared at her hands like she didn’t even recognize them. They were covered in blood. Tyler’s blood.
And then, her pocketknife slipped from her fingers and hit the ground.
I swallow hard, trying to push the memory out of my head as I step back into camp. I already took care of the Reed brothers. Dumped their bodies in a hole way out in the woods, far enough that Sarah won’t ever have to see their faces again.
“She’s in my tent.” Michael’s tired voice pulls me from my thoughts.
I glance over and spot him sitting inside the tent Sarah and I share. A fresh bandage stretches across his forehead, covering the spot where Tyler clocked him.
“I cleaned her up best I could. Wrapped the wounds. Set her broken fingers.”
My eyes go straight to his tent. Sarah’s golden hair spills over the pillow, no braid now. She’s sleeping. Her chest rises and falls beneath her hand, her broken fingers wrapped tightly in a splint.
I run a hand through my hair, trying like hell to keep my mind from going there.
But it’s useless. I’m already back in that moment, watching Tyler break her bones, his sick fucking rules spilling from his mouth while she suffered.
And I couldn’t do a damn thing. Just sat there, tied up, forced to watch while she cried out in pain.
I want to burn the whole world for that. For what he did to her.
Something glints in the grass, right in front of my boots.
Sarah’s pocketknife.
I bend down and pick it up, the blade still stained with blood. Hers. His. I don’t know. I wipe it on my jeans and shove it into my pocket.
Michael watches me, tracking my every move. I step into the tent and drop down next to him. His knees are pulled to his chest, and between his hands he holds Sarah’s favorite book, The Secret Garden. The edges are now smeared with blood.
And this time I know that blood has a name, a face, a heart. Sarah.
Blood never really bothered me before. Not the way it should’ve. It was just part of survival, part of the fight. But seeing it soaking into her book? That ignites a rage so deep it’s blinding.
“I wasn’t there with her,” Michael mutters, staring down at the book, his grip tight.
He’s not talking about Sarah. He’s talking about Alicia. That’s how Tyler found us. He tracked her through the woods and caught her before she could reach us.
“It’s not your fault,” I tell him. “Alicia was an Outsider. She knew the risks. If you’d been with her when Tyler caught her, we would’ve lost you too.”
Michael’s jaw clenches. His eyes flick from the book to Sarah, still asleep inside his tent. “Every woman close to me ends up hurt. I’m fucking cursed.”
I shake my head. “That’s not true.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“No, Michael. Everything that happened last night… it’s all on me.”
“Alicia wasn’t the first, James.”
I frown.
He opens Sarah’s book, flips through a few pages, then stops. Tucked between them is a photo I’ve never seen before. One I didn’t even know existed. It’s a Polaroid, old and faded around the edges.
Michael pulls it out and hands it to me.
I take it, and right away I recognize the faces, smiling, frozen in time on a sunny day at their dad’s ranch.
Sarah’s in the middle, the shortest of the group, her braids draped over her shoulders.
She’s waving both hands, grinning so big it’s impossible not to feel the joy in the shot.
On either side of her, her friends Emily and Lucy are blowing kisses to the camera.
Behind her is Brian, her shadow back then.
His black hair’s tucked under a cap, the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk.
Bruce stands in one corner, his blond hair cropped short, so different from how I remember him from my time at the ranch. His hands rest on his sister Chloe’s shoulders. She’s nearly as tall as him, wearing a red dress that skims the grass.
Then there’s Michael, hugging a beautiful girl I don’t recognize.
Her red hair’s as long as Sarah’s, braided down her back to her waist. He’s kissing her cheek, and she’s laughing.
On her other side is a guy who looks a lot like her, with the same red hair and same features.
A brother, maybe. I’ve never seen him either.
Michael’s gaze settles on the red-haired girl.
“Olivia,” he says. “She was my girl, and she died because I didn’t protect her.
So did her twin brother, Jonathan. My best friend back then.
” He points at the man beside her in the photo.
“We were the first Three Musketeers.” He laughs, but it’s hollow, no joy behind it.
“We used to think nothing could touch us. Then everything did.”
I hand the picture back to him, and he stares at it for a long time. His eyes never leave Olivia’s face.
“She screamed my name.” The words rip out of him as if they’ve been buried too long. “I heard her. I fucking heard her. But I was too far. Too fucking slow.”
He presses the photo to his chest like he’s trying to hold her one last time.
“I still dream about her. Sometimes I wake up and forget she’s gone.”
His shoulders shake, just once, before he sucks in a breath and wipes at his face with the back of his hand.
“She used to make strawberry cakes for breakfast. And she wore this red lipstick that tasted like strawberries too. Said it was her secret weapon.”
“I’m sorry, Michael. You never told me about her.”
“That’s okay.” His voice barely makes it out. “It’s hard to talk about someone when your heart died with them.”
He has no idea how much I understand that.
Pain like that never really leaves. You just get good at hiding it.
I didn’t know Michael had ever been in love, let alone lost her. That’s why Sarah’s always watching the sky, looking for a shooting star, hoping a wish can fix something none of us can.
“I didn’t save Olivia. I didn’t save Alicia.
And I sure as hell didn’t save Sarah.” His eyes meet mine, red and glassy.
“Do you think Sarah blames me? Because I do. I should’ve seen them coming.
I wasn’t paying attention. Wasn’t watching the woods.
Tyler hit me in the head with the butt of a rifle, and I almost blacked out. ”
“Knowing Sarah the way I do, she’s not the kind to blame anyone. And you shouldn’t either.”
“But I didn’t protect her, James.”
“You didn’t have to.” I meet his eyes. “This time, she pulled the trigger.”
She didn’t actually shoot Tyler. She used her pocketknife. But in the end, it didn’t matter. The result was the same.
Michael runs a hand down his face, tracing the lines of exhaustion etched into it. Maybe he’s thinking about how things could’ve gone differently. Or maybe… maybe he’s finally facing the truth we’ve both been trying to deny.
Sarah killed someone.
“You remember what Tyler said last night?” I ask. “About the leaders?”
“Yeah, I remember. ‘Outsiders don’t follow the rules, so the leaders of every state came together and made one just for them.’ What does that even mean, James? Who are these leaders?”
“It means they’re organized now. Every gang in the state answers to one leader.
And if that’s happening in every state… they’re gonna start acting like a government.
For real. Running the whole country again.
And if that happens? There won’t be anywhere left to hide, not just in the cities but in small towns, abandoned places, everywhere.
Everyone will be stuck living under their rules. ”
I let out a breath and run a hand through my hair. “Michael, if every state has its own leader, and they’re working together, making decisions…” I swallow hard. “They’re gonna find out Tyler’s dead.”
“You think they’ll send someone to replace him? A new leader for Colorado?”
“I don’t know. Gangs never used to work together. They didn’t give a shit what the others were doing. But now? Maybe they’ll fight over who takes control. Or maybe someone from another state claims it. Either way, that’s not what I’m worried about.”
Michael frowns. “Then what is it?”
“Tyler was one of the leaders. He was one of them. And now he’s dead. When they find out who killed him, they’ll want revenge. And they’ll hunt the person who did it.”
Michael’s grip tightens around the book in his hands. “Sarah.”
“Michael, we need to find that town up north. Hide her there. No one can ever know she’s the one who killed Tyler.”
Michael shifts beside me. “James, there’s something I have to tell you.”
I turn to him, pressure building behind my ribs as I watch a muscle tick in his jaw.
Something’s wrong. Really wrong.
I look over at Sarah, peaceful in her sleep. “Is it about her? Did she tell you what happened in the tent?”