31. Bree
Bree
The convoy rolls out of the city like a parade that forgot to ask permission.
I’m in the third vehicle with Thane and Stellan, the raven still perched on my shoulder like it’s claimed permanent residence. Through the windshield, I can see the line of headlights stretching ahead—trucks, vans, sedans, some that look like they’re held together with hope and duct tape.
Behind us, even more lights.
The energy is intoxicating. Windows down, voices carrying over the rumble of engines, laughter cutting through the night air. For the first time in what feels like forever, it doesn’t feel like we’re running.
It feels like we’re moving .
My Ether hums quietly, threading through the space between us and the vehicle ahead. I let myself sink into it—the warmth, the connection, the sense that something impossible is finally happening.
Then we pass the last streetlight.
The road opens up into countryside—dark fields stretching out on either side, the faint scent of water on the air from somewhere in the distance. The city lights fade behind us, and suddenly all I can see is us.
Headlights for miles.
A chain of mismatched vehicles, loud and obvious and impossible to miss.
My stomach drops.
“Stellan,” I say quietly .
He glances over. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re too visible.”
“We look like a festival caravan,” Thane nods from the backseat, voice dry. “Or a very poorly planned invasion.”
I twist in my seat, looking back through the rear window. The line of vehicles behind us curves around a bend in the road, lights blazing like stars falling in formation.
“Every person with a phone is about to record this,” Stellan says calmly. “We’ll be trending before we hit the freeway.”
My chest tightens. “We can’t— we need to stop.”
Stellan doesn’t argue. He just reaches for the radio clipped to the dash and clicks it on. “Lead vehicle, pull over. Now.”
Mo’s voice crackles back immediately. “Copy. You got a reason, or we just taking a scenic break?”
“Bree’s call,” Stellan says, glancing at me.
I lean forward. “Pull over, Mo. Everyone.”
One by one, the vehicles slow and stop along the shoulder of the road. Headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating cornfields and open grass. The lake is faintly visible in the distance, a dark line against the horizon.
I step out before the truck fully stops, boots hitting gravel. The night air is cooler here, sharp and clean. Engines tick as they cool, and voices rise in confusion.
“What’s going on?”
“We stopping already?”
“Is something wrong?”
I pace once, hands in my hair, trying to think. The raven shifts on my shoulder, wings rustling softly .
Then I turn and face them.
Mo’s already walking over, Jace right behind him. Thane and Stellan flank me without being asked. Gray, Rhett, Wes, and Theo emerge from the vehicles nearby, forming a loose circle.
“We can’t take this many people on the highway,” I say, voice steady even though my pulse isn’t. “Someone’s going to notice. There’ll be drones, checkpoints, news coverage—we’ll be front page by sunrise.”
Mo crosses his arms, considering. “You’re not wrong. But you’re also not turning back.”
“No.” I shake my head. “We split up.”
Silence. Then murmurs ripple through the crowd.
“Groups of five or six,” I continue, louder now. “Take different routes. Avoid main roads. Meet at—” I pause, looking at Thane.
He steps forward. “The boundary markers. Stone pillars with old Scarborne sigils—about an hour out. That’s the sanctuary border.” He checks his phone, scrolling before reading off coordinates. “Forty-three point two-one north, eighty-eight point four-seven west. Follow those, you’ll find them.”
Stellan nods. “Five, maybe six hours if the road stays clear. Gives us time to regroup before we move in.”
“Do not cross the border,” I add. “Pull over and wait near the treeline until everyone’s accounted for. No lights once you leave the main road. No magic use unless absolutely necessary. If anyone’s stopped or questioned, you’re running charity supplies or doing a delivery route. Nothing more.”
Wes steps forward. “And if someone doesn’t make it? ”
“Then we go without them,” I say quietly. “But we don’t wait. We can’t.”
The weight of that settles over the group like fog.
Jace breaks it with a half-grin. “So much for the party.”
I almost smile. “The party’s still on. We’re just not giving the world an invitation.”
A few quiet laughs. Nods. The tension eases, just slightly.
Mo claps his hands once. “All right, you heard her. Group up, pick your routes, stay smart. Move out in five.”
The crowd scatters, voices rising again as people divide into smaller clusters. Engines start back up one by one, headlights flickering as vehicles peel away in different directions.
I watch the first group disappear into the darkness, taillights swallowed by the night.
Then the second. The third.
The road feels quieter now. Heavier.
Thane steps up beside me, hands in his pockets. “You’re learning what leadership costs.”
I don’t look at him. “Feels like I’m just learning how to breathe with it.”
He nods. “Good. Because this is only the beginning.”
I look toward the horizon where the sanctuary lies hidden in the distance, and I whisper, “Then let’s finish it.”
I climb back into the truck. Stellan starts the engine, and we pull back onto the road.
The convoy is fragmented now—invisible, scattered, impossible to track.
But we’re still moving.
And we’re not stopping.