Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Gabbi
The night was alive with chaos.
Gunfire rattled through the trees, sharp and relentless. Shouts echoed from every direction, orders being barked, boots pounding against the dirt as Victor’s men scrambled for control. The alarm was still blaring, the sharp, high-pitched wail drowning out everything else. But none of it mattered.
Bobby and I ran, our bodies moving instinctively, weaving through the darkened paths of the camp. Every second that passed was a second closer to being caught. A second closer to losing everything.
Liam was waiting. He didn’t even know it yet.
I kept my gun tight in my grip, my pulse hammering as we skidded to a stop behind a stack of metal crates near the cabin. The place where they kept the boys.
It was heavily guarded. Three men stationed by the entrance, their rifles poised, scanning the area. More shadows moved in the distance, men running toward Victor’s cabin, toward the carnage Bobby had left behind. They didn’t know yet. Didn’t know the real threat was right here, right now.
Bobby pressed his back against the crate, breathing hard, his eyes locked on the guards. His face was smeared with dirt and blood, his jaw tight.
"We don’t have time for a silent approach," he muttered.
I nodded. "Then we go loud."
His mouth twitched, almost like he wanted to smirk, but there was nothing amused about this. He just gave a sharp nod before slipping the knife from his belt.
I moved first, raising my gun. One of the guards barely had time to react before I fired. Headshot. He dropped instantly.
The other two turned, shouting, their weapons jerking up?—
Bobby lunged. Fast. Precise. His knife sank into the throat of one guard before the guy even knew he was dead. The third swung his rifle toward him, but Bobby was already moving, grabbing the barrel, twisting it sharply. A sickening crack filled the air. The guard slumped.
Three down.
The cabin was unguarded now. But we weren’t safe yet.
Bobby shoved the door open, and we stormed inside.
The smell hit me first.
Damp air, sweat, unwashed skin. It was thick, suffocating, pressing in from every corner of the cramped space. The lanterns flickered weakly, casting long, jagged shadows against the wooden walls.
The boys were huddled together, backs against the far wall. Some stood, frozen in place, their thin bodies stiff with fear. Others sat curled up, arms wrapped around their knees. Their eyes were wide, filled with panic, confusion, desperation.
And then—Liam.
I saw him the second we stepped inside.
He was standing near the back, his arms loose at his sides, his face unreadable. Too still. Too quiet.
His eyes flickered between me and Bobby, and something tightened in my chest. I could see it—the hesitation, the recognition barely surfacing, buried under years of conditioning.
I moved first, crossing the space between us fast, dropping to my knees in front of him, my hands trembling as I reached out.
"It’s time," I breathed.
Liam didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
For a second, dread curled in my stomach.
What if he didn’t trust me? What if he didn’t believe we were real?
Then, slowly, his gaze shifted—past me, to Bobby.
Bobby stood there, chest rising and falling fast, his knuckles white around his gun. He looked wrecked—like a man staring at a ghost.
"Liam," he said, voice rough, almost broken.
Something cracked in Liam’s expression. The wall he had built, the numbness he had clung to—it splintered.
I barely had time to react before Liam moved.
Not slow. Not hesitant.
He ran—straight into Bobby’s arms.
Bobby let out a sharp, shaky breath as he caught him, his arms crushing around his little brother like he would never let go again.
"I got you," Bobby whispered, his voice breaking. "I got you."
I swallowed hard, my throat tight, blinking fast to keep my vision clear. The other boys were still watching, tense and wary, their eyes darting to the door, to the sounds of chaos outside.
They didn’t trust us yet.
I pushed to my feet, forcing my voice steady. "We’re getting you out of here."
No one moved.
They were scared. Too scared to believe us.
I took a step forward, lowering my gun slightly. "I know you don’t know us, but we’re not like them. We’re here to get you out."
One of the boys, younger than Liam, shook his head, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. "They’ll catch us." His voice was small, broken.
"No," I said firmly. "They won’t."
Liam pulled back slightly, his hands fisting into Bobby’s shirt. His voice was quieter, but it carried through the room. "They killed Victor."
A murmur rippled through the boys.
The fear in their eyes shifted—not gone, but different.
A spark of hope.
"They’re scared now," Bobby said, his voice stronger, steadier. "They don’t know what the hell is happening. This is our chance."
Liam hesitated for half a second longer. Then, finally—he nodded.
It was enough.
The other boys followed. One by one, they stepped forward, toward us. Toward freedom.
I exhaled, relief flooding my chest, but we weren’t done yet.
"We have to move, now," Bobby said.
I turned to the door, listening for movement outside. The shouts were distant, still scattered. They hadn’t noticed the missing guards yet.
Good.
"Stay close," I told them, my voice low, urgent. "Stay quiet. And no matter what happens, keep moving."
Bobby kept Liam in his arms, his grip unbreakable. The others pressed close, small shadows in the darkness.
Then—we ran.
Out the door. Into the night. Into the unknown.
There was no turning back now.