Chapter 24
MIA
I’ve learned a lot from Asher, Zane, and Damon. How to spot an exit without looking. How to measure the weight of a gun in someone’s waistband. How to breathe through fear without letting it show.
Jason thinks he’s the only one in control here.
But I’m watching. Taking inventory. The number of men outside, how often they switch shifts.
The way the cabin creaks when the wind blows, where the floorboards are loose.
I watch Jason, too—how he moves, when he’s distracted, the moments when he’s careless.
Because there are moments. And I only need one.
The girls are watching, too.
They play their parts so well—scared little girls who need their mother, who need him. Emma clings to my side, eyes wide and trembling, while Ella lets him pour her a glass of milk with shaky hands. Jason eats it up. He’s always loved control, and nothing feeds that ego more than feeling needed.
But he doesn’t see the way Emma studies the doors, how she shifts her weight like she’s measuring the best way to run. He doesn’t catch Ella’s fleeting glances at the men outside, quietly tracking their movements, counting them just like Zane taught her.
They’re learning. They’re waiting.
So am I.
I tuck Emma under my arm, stroking her hair, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her little chest as she breathes. Her fingers fist my shirt, clinging to me like I’m the only solid thing in her world. Jason watches us from across the room, leaning back in his chair like a king surveying his kingdom.
“You see, Mia, isn’t this nice? I can give you everything those men never can. Fucking them must have been nice, though. You were always a naughty girl.”
My face throbs. “Jason, please. Not in front of the kids.”
Ella drops her spoon into the bowl of soup, flinching when Jason turns his body towards her.
“I’m sorry,” she says in a small voice.
He softens. Fucking bastard. He likes this. Likes that he thinks they’re weak, that they’re bending to him.
“That’s okay, sweetheart,” he says, reaching across the table to ruffle her hair. She stiffens but doesn’t pull away.
I grip Emma tighter, feeling the way her little body coils like a spring, ready to bolt.
She keeps her face buried in my side, but her eyes flick toward the window.
She’s been tracking the guards. Studying the way they rotate shifts.
The way one of them always lights a cigarette near the back porch, disappearing into the trees for a few minutes.
Ella lets Jason finish smoothing down her hair, then turns back to her soup. The moment his attention drifts, she casually shifts her chair back an inch. Testing the floorboards. Checking for creaks.
A test run.
Emma’s hand tightens around my shirt. Her small fingers trace patterns on the fabric in quick, subtle movements.
Two outside. One left, one smoking.
She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it, mimicking the way Zane used to sketch routes in the dirt with his knife. I squeeze her gently, letting her know I understand.
Jason stands by the window, peering out into the tree line like he expects someone to materialize from the shadows. His fingers drum against his thigh impatiently. I don’t know what he’s looking for. Maybe his guards checking in, maybe just the satisfaction of knowing no one is coming for me.
“Idiots,” he mutters under his breath. His gaze flicks toward the clock, then he exhales sharply and grabs his gun from the table.
“I need to do my rounds,” he says, loud enough for his men outside to hear. “Stay put, girls. Be good for your mother.”
He ruffles Emma’s hair like she’s a pet and strides toward the door, pausing just before stepping out. His eyes meet mine, smug and cold. “Try anything stupid, and you’ll regret it.”
The door clicks shut behind him. The second I hear his boots crunching on the gravel outside, my muscles unlock.
My eyes dart to the counter, searching.
There.
Jason’s backup phone sits near the edge, carelessly left behind, as if he’s so convinced of his control that he doesn’t even bother to secure it.
My pulse pounds in my ears as I move, every sound in the cabin suddenly magnified.
The rustle of Ella shifting in her chair, the scrape of the wooden floor under my socked feet, the distant murmur of Jason’s voice as he speaks to his men.
I grab the phone, heart hammering, and tuck it into my sleeve.
Ella watches me, eyes wide but understanding. She reaches for her spoon, knocking over her glass on purpose. Water spills across the table, a perfect distraction. Emma lets out a little yelp, jumping up from her seat.
“Shh, it’s okay,” I murmur, moving to clean it, but my mind is already racing.
I have one shot at this.
It has to be tonight.
The fog clings to the trees, thick and muffling, wrapping around the cabin like a ghost. It’s now or never.
I slip out of bed, careful not to let the old mattress groan under my weight.
Jason’s slow, even breaths fill the silence.
I watch him for a moment, making sure he’s deep in sleep, his arm draped over his chest, gun within reach on the nightstand.
My stomach clenches. If he so much as shifts before we’re out that door, this will all be over.
Padding toward the girls’ room, I push open the door and crouch by the bed, pressing a finger to my lips. Emma stirs first, her lashes fluttering as her sleepy eyes meet mine. She doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t make a sound. She just nods.
Ella is already slipping on her shoes by the time I nudge her. The girls understand without words, their little hands moving quickly, efficiently. Lessons learned in silence, from men who knew how to survive.
The floorboards creak under my weight. I swallow hard. Every sound feels too loud. My pulse thunders in my ears as I inch toward the front door, my hand closing around the knob. I exhale slowly, testing the latch.
The door groans.
I freeze.
Jason shifts in the bedroom, and my breath catches in my throat. The twins stand still behind me, barely breathing. Then Emma, quick as lightning, drops her stuffed bear to the floor with a soft thump.
The noise is just enough to cover the door’s whisper of movement as I ease it open, inch by painstaking inch. Ella bends down, retrieving the bear like it’s the most important mission of her life, careful, slow, deliberate. Misdirection, just as Asher taught her.
We step outside into the mist. The damp air clings to my skin, and my heart is pounding so loud, I’m afraid someone will hear it. I guide the girls toward the tree line, every step calculated. The cabin is a shadow behind us, the woods stretching out like a silent invitation.
We’re almost there.
Then—
A shout.
“Mia!”
Jason’s voice rips through the quiet like a gunshot.
I grab the twins’ hands and run.
The fog swallows us, tree branches scraping against my skin as we stumble deeper into the forest. I don’t know where we’re going, only that we have to go. Behind us, heavy footsteps pound against the ground.
Jason is coming.
“Mommy…” Emma’s voice wobbles, but she keeps running, tiny legs pumping as fast as they can.
“I’ve got you,” I say, breathless. “Just keep moving, baby.”
A gunshot cracks the air.
I scream, shoving the girls ahead of me.
We can’t stop. We can’t.
The forest is dense, the fog thick, but I spot something ahead—a clearing. If we can make it there, maybe—
Another shot.
A tree explodes near us, bark shattering. I duck, shielding the girls with my body. Jason’s laughter rings behind us, taunting.
There’s nowhere to go.
And he knows it.
The forest presses in, thick with mist and damp earth, swallowing the sound of our frantic footsteps. I barely register the branches scraping at my arms, barely register the sting as brambles catch at my jeans.
The twins’ small hands are slick with sweat as I grip them tighter, forcing my legs to move faster despite the burning in my muscles.
Jason is close. Too close.
Emma trips, her tiny cry muffled by the fog. I yank her up, holding her against my hip as Ella clutches at my other hand, barely keeping up. I can’t carry them both.
“Mia!” Jason’s voice cuts through the trees, sharp, furious. “You think you can run from me? You think I’ll let you?”
Terror spikes through my veins, but I force myself to stay focused.
His curses slash through the trees, growing louder, closing in.
My breath comes in ragged gasps, but I push forward, shoving Emma and Ella ahead of me.
“Go, babies. Run!”
Ella stumbles but keeps going, Emma pulling her along.
We hit a slope, the ground tilting beneath our feet. Rocks skid out from under me, but I use the momentum to propel us forward. My mind scrambles for Zane’s lessons, for Asher’s drills, for every scrap of survival knowledge they hammered into me.
Jason is bigger, stronger, but I have more to lose.
The slope steepens, and through the fog, I see it: the lake.
Cold and endless, stretching like an abyss.
Jason is nearly on us. I hear his panting breaths, the snap of twigs under his boots. My body screams for rest, but I don’t stop. We’re out of options.
I stop so suddenly that Ella collides into my side. Emma clings to my neck, her face pressed against my shoulder.
“M-Mommy?” Emma’s voice is small, uncertain.
Jason’s boots hit the ground behind them.
We have seconds.
I spin around, my grip tightening on Ella’s wrist. “Hold your breath,” I whisper.
“What?” Emma clings tighter.
“Now! ”
And then we jump.
The air whooshes past, my stomach lurching as we drop. Emma screams against my shoulder, and Ella’s small fingers dig into my wrist. The lake rushes toward us, dark and endless.
Please let it be deep enough. Please.
We hit the water with a force that knocks the breath from my lungs.
The world becomes cold. Sound vanishes. For a moment, there is only darkness and pressure, the weight of Emma against my chest, Ella’s hand slipping from mine.
The cold slams into us like a fist. The lake swallows us whole.
Darkness closes in, and the last thing I hear is Jason’s furious roar as the water drags us under.