CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SARAH
Scars are like medals, except no one really wants them.
It’s been almost an hour since the boys left to get gas, and I’ve done nothing but lie here, worn out, half-asleep, and aching in every joint. If I fell asleep now and woke up at sundown, I’d be totally fine with that.
Lorelai’s lying next to me, all stretched out with her eyes closed, her lashes casting tiny shadows on her cheeks. For a second, I think she’s asleep, until she asks, “So… what’s this magical town up north James and Michael won’t stop talking about?”
“It’s called Northern Lights,” I say softly. “That’s the place we’re looking for. A real town. Safe, protected. Not just ruins… an actual city no one ever controlled.”
Her eyes flutter open. “Do you think they have restaurants? I always dreamed of being a chef. Back in Denver, when I was a kid, there were so many styles and flavors. I fell in love with food. Now it’s just whatever Ryan manages to scavenge.
Cans, packets, stuff that probably expired back when I still had braces.
You’d be amazed at what I’ve turned into a ‘meal.’”
I smile faintly, because I know exactly how she feels. Dreams feel like a luxury now, but I still believe in them. “I think there’s a good chance. James does too.”
As I run my fingers over the sore spot on my forehead, Lorelai tilts her head, her eyes narrowing like she’s trying to read my mind.
“You’re not just tired from walking, are you? Your head still hurts, doesn’t it?”
I stiffen for a moment, then sigh. “Yeah, it does.”
“Why didn’t you tell James?”
“I don’t want him to think I’m weak. I don’t want him to see me as just another girl who needs saving.”
“You’re overthinking this. He doesn’t see you as weak, Sarah. And even if he does want to protect you, that’s not a bad thing. Ryan’s done the same for me. It’s just the way they show love. They see what we need, even when we don’t.”
As the wind picks up, I let her words sink in. It’s almost peaceful—almost—until the sound of a car engine rips through the air, coming down the highway from the north.
Lorelai shoots upright from the truck bed, waving both arms with excitement. “Sarah, look! They’ve got another truck!”
Another truck?
I push myself up onto my elbows, just in time to see a red pickup veering off the road, heading straight for us.
I raise a hand to shield my eyes from the blinding sun, squinting at the oncoming truck. I can make out three figures inside, but every nerve in my body is on high alert now, screaming that something’s not right.
I reach for my gun, wiping my sweaty hand on my tank top before getting a solid grip.
As the truck gets closer, the sun finally stops glaring off the windshield, and I get a clear look inside. That’s when the cold hits me, racing down my spine like ice water.
Three men. Not James. Not Michael. Not Ryan. Strangers.
My heart kicks into overdrive, each beat echoing a single word: danger, danger, danger.
I jump off our truck bed, my boots slamming onto the pavement as I dash toward Lorelai.
“Wait, Lorelai! That’s not them!”
Her excited wave freezes mid-air. She frowns, takes a half-step back, and stares at me, wide-eyed. “What do you mean?”
Just as I’m about to answer, the truck screeches to a stop in the parking lot, a little too close for comfort.
The man with a shaved head behind the wheel gives me a look that’s anything but friendly. My eyes flick down to his arms, and I nearly flinch. Every inch of his skin is covered in old burn scars.
“Hey, princess,” he says as he climbs out of the truck, the other two strangers trailing behind him.
“What do you want?” I snap, skipping the whole polite thing.
James drilled it into my head: “If someone calls you ‘princess’ like they know you, treat them as an enemy. No smiles. No small talk.”
He steps closer as if he didn’t even hear the edge in my voice.
“Need a ride? We’ve got plenty of room in the truck.”
“No thanks,” Lorelai says. “Our boyfriends are on their way.” Her voice is strained, and she’s biting her lip so hard it’s a miracle she’s not bleeding.
The stranger smirks. “Are you sure about that?”
What’s that supposed to mean?
He takes another step, still wearing that stupid, smug grin like we’re part of some twisted game. The other two follow his lead, edging closer, their eyes locked on us.
Everything my dad ever taught me rushes through my mind in a blur: how to stand, how to aim, how to make sure I don’t miss.
My hands tighten around the gun as I raise it, aiming straight at the scarred man’s chest.
“Stop! Don’t you dare take another step!”
The scarred man hesitates, his eyes flicking to my gun.
“You won’t shoot us, will you, princess? Come on now, let’s be friends.”
“We don’t want anything from you! Just go away!”
But he doesn’t listen. None of them do. They all close in.
So I pull the trigger. Once. Twice. Four times. My hands shake so hard I can barely keep my grip on the gun, but I don’t stop until it clicks empty.
The three strangers stop, stunned, like they can’t believe I actually fired.
But not a single bullet hits them. Not one. It wasn’t meant to hit.
Their grins come back, bigger, nastier. And then they laugh.
“You shouldn’t have done that, princess,” the scarred man growls, locking eyes with me as he starts walking slowly in my direction.
“RUN!” I scream at Lorelai.
We take off, boots pounding the pavement.
“You can run, but you can’t hide,” one of them calls after us.
I don’t look back. I don’t dare. I just run.
But our escape is over before it even started.
Two of them catch up to Lorelai in no time. She’s kicking and screaming, but it’s not enough.
I see her spit at one of them, and he slaps her so hard she spins and crashes to the ground.
The sight freezes me in place, my feet stopping right at the jagged edge of the fence where James had cut that hole earlier.
All I can do is stare. I want to move. I need to. But my body won’t listen.
I wish James were here. He’d know what to do.
“Sarah!” Lorelai screams, blood running from the corner of her mouth. “Go! Just GO!”
Her voice jolts me out of my daze, and I dash toward the hole in the fence.
But I don’t make it.
Sharp, sudden pain rips through me as I’m yanked hard by my braids. I slam into the ground, the impact knocking the air out of me. The wire fence scrapes down my back, tearing through my shirt and skin. And I can’t stop the scream that rips from my throat.
Everything shrinks to the pain. It’s all I can feel, all I can think about—bright, burning red mixed with blinding white. Tears blur my vision as I struggle against the iron grip holding my arms behind me.
I reach for my pocketknife with fumbling fingers, but it’s too late. Before I can even touch it, one of them slams me down harder, pinning me face-first to the ground. Then I hear the metallic click of handcuffs snapping shut around my wrists.
“Motherfucker!” I scream, wild and furious, but it’s cut off when the scarred man slaps a hand over my mouth.
I yank and twist, trying to bite him, trying to break free, but all I taste is dirt and sweat. Then he shoves a rope into my mouth, gagging me.
“This one’s got some fire in her,” the scarred man says, laughing, and the others join in.
His hands grab my ankles, pinning them down, and I hear the snap of cuffs again. Running’s not even an option anymore.
He slides his hand down my leg, making my skin crawl.
“You’re a fucking pretty little thing,” he whispers, his hand stopping on the back of my thigh. “I bet you belong to him, huh? He likes blondes.”
My body goes still.
“Has he fucked you out here yet?” he snarls, slapping my ass.
I bite back a whimper, choking it down with the bile rising in my throat.
“No? Don’t worry, princess. We’ll screw you a few times.
See what you taste like.” He shakes his head.
“Shit, you don’t even know how valuable you are, do you?
They’d probably give me anything I want just for a chance to ride you.
You know how to suck cock? You better, because you’re gonna be doing a lot of it. ”
The words hit like a sledgehammer to the chest.
And the worst part is, I know he means every single word.
“And the other girl?” a second man asks, striding over and nodding toward Lorelai, who’s lying in the dirt a few steps away like a broken doll. Her muffled sobs bleed through the T-shirt they threw over her head, her wrists and ankles cuffed too.
“She’ll be dessert,” the man holding me says casually. “She’s his friend. Should’ve picked better company.”
His friend?
Is he talking about James? Do they know he’s an Outsider?
The scarred man turns to me. “It’s time to go, princess.” His hand snakes toward my hair, grabs one of my braids, and yanks so hard a cry escapes my throat. Pain tears through my scalp, and before I can catch my breath, a grimy T-shirt is shoved over my head. The stale, sour smell makes me gag.
I’m hauled off the ground and slung over his shoulder. He walks across the parking lot at a slow pace. No urgency. No looking over his shoulder. And that’s when the panic really sets in.
If they’re this calm, it means… it means they’ve already dealt with the boys.
I’m dumped unceremoniously onto the hard metal bed of the truck, and a second later I hear Lorelai’s muffled cries as they toss her next to me.
I start yanking at my wrists, twisting against the cuffs, but it’s useless. All it does is make the metal cut deeper with every pull. My ankles are just as stuck, and every move makes me feel more trapped.
I hear the truck door creak open on the driver’s side. The man with the scarred arm is still nearby, just a blur in my vision.
“We’re goin’ to our place first,” he says. “Tomorrow, we hand them off to Tyler in Denver.”
My breathing gets louder, heavier, stifled by the filthy fabric shoved over my face. I don’t want to cry, but the tears come anyway… until they won’t stop.
What if James didn’t hear the gunshots?