I stood back, heart thumping, wishing I could disappear into the faded floral wallpaper. My brother’s protectiveness was fierce, but so was the fear shimmering in his eyes—a fear he refused to admit in front of the others. The choice had been ripped from his hands, and all I could do was swallow my own terror and wait for someone, anyone, to say something that made it all okay.
The air thickened as the debate raged around me like a distant storm I couldn’t control. Reaper’s pronouncement hung heavy in the silence, a decree that felt like a death knell for the fragile semblance of normalcy I’d clung to. My brother’sdefiance, though valiant, was a shield too thin against the onslaught of their world. He saw only the sister he swore to protect, while his president saw a liability, a pawn in a war that had suddenly consumed them all. The certainty in Reaper’s voice, the grim acceptance of a reality I was only beginning to comprehend, sent a fresh wave of dread through me.
Daphne stepped forward, her usual shyness replaced by a quiet strength. She placed a hand on Ink’s arm, her gaze firm on Reaper. “If Karlyn needs to be moved, she won’t go alone. I’ll go with her.” My brother’s head snapped toward his wife fast, his anger momentarily eclipsed by shock. A flicker of something akin to gratitude, quickly masked by his usual gruffness, passed over his face.
The Biker Federation was at war, a fact that had been a distant murmur until this moment, and now it was a tangible threat, an encroaching darkness that threatened to swallow them whole.
I watched them, the president of the Golden Skulls and my own brother, their arguments a brutal choreography of loyalty and survival. The thought of leaving this house, of being uprooted again, sent a fresh wave of panic through me. But beneath the fear, a cold resolve began to form. If this was the price of my existence, if my very presence put those I cared about in danger, then perhaps... perhaps I needed to disappear, not just for them, but for myself. The forest, the whispers, the feeling of being watched—it was all part of a larger, more dangerous game, and I was clearly an unwilling player.
Slowly backing out of the room, I headed upstairs, their voices clear even on the second floor as I entered my bedroom. In some way, I already knew what I had to do. Walking over to the window, I looked around the room that had become my haven, my safe place in the storm that raged within me. For months, when my nightmares overwhelmed me, I would retreatinto this room for days, knowing that as long as I was in here, I was safe.
But I wasn’t really safe, was I?
But I could be... out there, I thought as my mind drifted to the forest he loved so much. He taught me how to survive out there. What I needed to do to disappear, to live off the land and how to protect myself. He taught me everything I needed to do to survive in a world where death and destruction were as finite as breathing. My gaze swept over the familiar landscape of my room, each object a silent witness to the turmoil I’d endured. The faded photographs on the wall, remnants of a life before my nightmares consumed it, seemed to mock me with their cheerfulness. My fear—a cold knot in my stomach—tightened its grip.
They were right. Staying here put everyone I cared about in danger. Jackson’s words taught me to survive, to disappear; his voice echoed in my mind like a guiding whisper. He had prepared me for this. He had shown me how to become one with the wilderness, how to shed my old skin and melt into the shadows.
I opened my closet, pulling out a worn duffel bag. Inside, I packed the essentials, nothing more: a change of clothes, a tattered journal, a small knife that felt like an extension of my own hand.
I didn’t need much. The forest had taught me that true survival wasn’t about possessions, but about resilience, about listening to the earth and letting it guide you. My movements were methodical and practiced. Old habits died hard, and the lessons learned in the wild, the survival instincts ingrained by Jackson, about vanishing and becoming a shadow, surfaced now with chilling clarity. The small amount of money I had, a few faded photographs, the worn hunting knife—the one he gave me—became my essentials. Everything else was a luxury I could nolonger afford. The fear that had gripped me since my abduction, the unsettling feeling of being watched, had solidified into a grim certainty. I was a liability, a beacon in a storm, and my continued presence here put everyone I cared about at risk.
My brother’s voice, raw with desperation, bled through the walls, a painful reminder of the bonds I was about to sever. But sometimes, the greatest act of love was to step away, to become a ghost so that others could live. As I zipped up the bag, a soft breeze whispered through the room.
I hesitated, my hand hovering over the zipper. What could I say to them? That I was leaving, disappearing into the very world that haunted my dreams and whispered threats in the rustling leaves? That the fear of being found, of endangering everyone, outweighed even my own yearning for safety? I turned the lock, my heart aching at the thought of Daphne’s kindness, her belief in me—a belief I could no longer reciprocate in my new reality.
With a final, lingering glance at the room that had been my sanctuary, I stepped out into the hallway and looked over the railing from the second floor into the living room where I saw my brother and Reaper still locked in their tense standoff. Daphne stood beside my brother, her presence a quiet anchor.
I paused, a lump forming in my throat.
This was goodbye, unspoken but final. I cast one last glance at the faces that had offered me sanctuary. A flicker of gratitude and sorrow passed through me. Then, I turned away; I moved toward the back staircase that led down to the kitchen door, toward the silent, waiting forest, the only sanctuary I knew I could trust now.
The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with dangers I could only guess at, but it was a path I had to walk alone. I slipped out the back door, the cool air a familiar embrace. The forest beckoned, its darkness a promise of anonymity. I didn’t knowwhat awaited me, what dangers lay hidden within its depths, but I knew one thing for certain: I would survive.
“You don’t have to be afraid of the unknown, baby. There are a lot of dangers in this world you won’t be able to avoid. Surviving is the important thing to remember. As long as you survive to see the sunrise, then you can handle anything that comes your way.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know you are,” he whispered, wrapping his arms tighter around me as we sat before the fire, cuddled close together, me in his arms. “I’ve been scared many times. There is nothing wrong with fear. Fear is a powerful emotion, but don’t let it cripple you. Even when you think all is lost and hope is gone, fear can be a powerful friend because without fear, you won’t find the courage to win.”
“Is winning that important?”
He was silent for a moment, the firelight flickering in his eyes. “It’s not about winning like in a game. It’s about refusing to give up, about finding the strength when you thought you had none left. Sometimes, surviving is its own kind of victory.” His words lingered between us, warm and steady, as the night pressed in around our small circle of light. I let myself breathe, just for a moment, allowing his comfort to fortify my resolve in a world of darkness that scared me to the bone.
The forest floor was a cushion of decaying leaves and damp earth, a stark contrast to the sterile silence of my room. Every rustle, every snap of a twig, was amplified, a drumbeat against the quiet hum of my own fear. I moved with practiced stealth;the skills ingrained by a man whose memory was now my compass. He had taught me to listen, to feel, to become one with the wild.
Now, those lessons were all I had.
The trees loomed like ancient sentinels, their branches laced together overhead, filtering the moonlight into ethereal patterns on the ground. The air was thick with the scent of pine and something wilder, something that vibrated with an untamed energy. I was a shadow amongst shadows, a ghost slipping back into the wilderness that had always called to a part of me I’d tried to bury.
A gnawing emptiness settled in my stomach, a reminder that I hadn’t eaten since morning. My duffel bag felt heavier now, not with its contents, but with the weight of my decision. Leaving them, leaving the fragile safety of my brother’s home, was a sacrifice I knew I had to make. They were at war, and my presence was a beacon, drawing the very danger they were trying to outrun. But the thought of Ravage, of the fragments of memory that surfaced when I thought of him, offered a strange solace. He understood this world, this constant dance with peril. Had he been the one to send that phantom hand, that impossible feeling of being guided here? The questions swirled, unanswered, as I pushed deeper into the woods, the forest floor yielding beneath my bare feet.
My thoughts drifted back to his words, his lessons on survival. “Surviving is the important thing to remember,” he’d whispered, his voice a warm ember against the cold grip of fear. “As long as you survive to see the sunrise, then you can handle anything that comes your way.” It wasn’t about winning, he’d said, but about refusing to give up, about finding the strength when you thought you had none left. And with every step I took, with every breath I drew in the cool, crisp air, I felt that strengthbegin to bloom, a fragile defiance against the encroaching darkness.
I was no longer just Karlyn, the girl haunted by shadows.
I was Karlyn, the survivor, stepping into the wild unknown, armed with the echoes of his wisdom.
Chapter Seven
