Right now, hunted and broke and on the run, this is exactly where I belong.
I look up and meet their eyes, and I know they understand.
I’m not alone anymore.
We keep walkingafter the stream, keeping to the tree line and the narrowest strips of moonlight. I hug my bag close, teeth chattering. The world is silent except for the steady sound of our steps and the distant hum of highway traffic we’re avoiding.
The woods thin out and we spot a house—a low, plain ranch set back from a gravel road, windows dark. No car in the drive, no porch light, not a single sign of movement. Jace circles around back, motioning us to stay put. Nico crouches by the fence, eyes darting, every muscle tense.
A minute later, Jace waves us over. “No one’s home. Back door was unlocked. Place looks empty.”
Inside, the air smells like dust and old carpet. We step into a small kitchen cluttered with mail and empty mugs. I look around—fridge covered in magnets, a faded floral calendar, a row of houseplants clinging to the last of their lives on the sill. The living room is all brown plaid, ancient recliner sagging beside a battered sofa. Family pictures crowd the mantle, their smiles blurred by dust.
Nico checks the bedrooms. “Clear. Nobody’s here. Looks like someone’s gone for the holiday.”
I hesitate, but my body is exhausted. I want to keep moving, to be anywhere but this stranger’s home. “We should go,” I say, voice barely above a whisper. “We can’t stay long. We can’t risk it.”
Levi touches my shoulder, gentle but firm. “You need to rest, Carrie. You can barely stand up. We’ll watch the doors.”
Jace nods, already pulling an old blanket off the couch. “He’s right. You’re done for now.”
I know they’re right. I press my palm to my stomach, reminding myself of what’s at stake—not just me, but the tiny life inside me too. I nod, too tired to argue. “Okay. Just for an hour. Wake me if anything changes.”
I curl up on the sofa, the scratchy blanket pulled tight around my shoulders. Levi locks the back door and sits in the kitchen, Nico checks the windows again, and Jace leans against the wall, eyes on the drive.
As I drift toward sleep, the warmth of the house, the quiet strength of the men around me, and the baby I’m carrying feel like the only real things left in the world.
I don’t remember closing my eyes. One minute I’m watching the shadows drift across the ceiling, the next I’m cocooned in warmth, a scratchy old blanket pulled up under my chin. I blink, heavy and disoriented, breathing in the smell of bacon and burnt toast. My stomach grumbles before my mind catches up.
As I got a quick hour of sleep, the guys had apparently decided to raid the kitchen. There’s not much—stale bread, half a box of cereal—but then Nico finds a bottle of whiskey at the back of a cupboard. For a second, the tension cracks. Levi laughs, Jace grins like he’s seeing daylight for the first time in months.
“We deserve a drink,” Nico says, holding the bottle up. “We survived.”
Levi rummages for mismatched mugs, Jace finds some dusty shot glasses. They pour out rounds, hands shaking but faces bright for the first time since the prison walls vanished behind us.
Jace hands me a glass, the golden liquid catching the first light of dawn. “You too, Carrie. You earned it.”
I lift the glass with the others, smile wide as I clink it against theirs, but when no one’s looking I just let it touch my lips. I don’t dare drink.
My stomach is still uneasy, and I can’t risk it—not with the baby. I tip it just enough for the liquid to move, then set it aside, my hand wrapped around the mug so no one sees how full it still is.
The guys don’t notice. The whiskey makes them louder, looser. For a while, it almost feels like we’re anywhere but on the run.
The house is freezing. Levi and Jace bring in chopped wood from the porch, and soon Nico has a fire going. The flames fillthe room with soft light and gentle heat. We pull blankets and old couch cushions onto the floor, making a nest close to the hearth.
We sit in a tight circle, shoulders and knees brushing. It feels good to have them back like this, feels just like old times. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine I’m back at the club. But now everything has changed.
I’m not the girl I once was.
Jace props his feet on the brick hearth, stretching out. “You know what I missed most? Not even the food. Just sitting somewhere quiet. Not looking over my shoulder every minute.”
Nico picks at the label on his empty glass. “I missed not having to act tough all the time. In there, you let your guard down for five seconds, and that’s it. Out here, I can just…breathe.” He glances at me, his smile almost bashful. “Or I can, now.”
Levi doesn’t say much at first, just listens. He has a way of filling the space with his presence alone. He looks at me, steady and sure. “I missed feeling like myself.”
I give a quiet little laugh, the kind that aches in my chest. “Me too,” I say. But inside, it’s messier than that. How do I even put words to it? I feel more myself here, with them, than I ever did in my old life. Still, sometimes it scares me—how my heart can hold this much, how I can love all three of them in ways I never planned.
Jace glances over, a crooked smile on his face. “Yeah, you sure did.”
