4. Lane
Lane
T he door opened again — but this time, it wasn’t the sneering gunman.
It was a boy. Couldn’t have been older than fifteen, carrying a tray. He kept his eyes down, his small shoulders shaking.
He set the tray on the metal floor by my feet, careful not to touch me. Rice. A bottle of water. Something that might’ve once been chicken.
I swallowed hard. “Hey. What’s your name?”
He flinched. Didn’t answer.
“Hey, kid. Look at me.”
Slowly, his eyes met mine. Brown. Terrified.
“Please. Help me. I need to get out. My sister — she’s dying.”
He shook his head violently. “No. No speak. Boss kill me.”
“I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”
His eyes darted to the security camera in the corner. He shoved the tray closer with a shaking hand, then fled like the devil himself was after him.
I stared at the food. My stomach cramped with hunger, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch it. Not until I knew Zoe was alive. Not until I knew Jason was out there — because I knew him. He’d move heaven and hell to get to me.
I’d just have to survive long enough to let him find me.