Jasper’s voice drifted back, pleased. “She causing trouble?”
Zach’s eyes flicked to me, warning. Not concern. A reminder. “No,” he said.
I held Zach’s gaze and let my expression go flat. If he wanted quiet, I’d give him quiet with teeth in it.
The back door opened.
Hands grabbed my arm and yanked me out. My feet hit the ground unevenly and I caught myself, refusing to stumble. The woods pressed close, trees stacked thick, darkness layered between trunks. The air smelled like damp earth and pine and the faint metallic edge of machinery somewhere nearby.
Not a house. Not a porch. Not a place anyone would casually wander into. They marched me into the trees. Zach on one side. Jasper on the other. Each of them held an arm like I was a child they feared might bolt. Like they didn’t trust the zip tie. Like they knew I would try anyway.
“Did you enjoy your freedom?” Jasper asked, almost polite.
I didn’t answer.
I didn’t have to.
He smiled anyway, amused by my silence like it was a game. “You always did have a dramatic streak,” he went on. “But I warned you. The Flame doesn’t release what belongs to it.”
“I don’t belong to you,” I snarled.
He moved fast, fingers snapping around my chin and forcing my face up. His grip wasn’t frantic. It was practiced. Casual. Because he’d done it a thousand times and never once questioned why.
“You were shaped by me,” he said calmly. “Marked. Broken down and rebuilt. You don’t undo that by running into the arms of bikers and pretending at morality.”
My pulse hammered, but I didn’t look away. Not because I was brave for the sake of being brave. Because looking away would be a gift, and I refused to give him one.
“Your friend was loud,” Jasper continued, like he was reminiscing over a drink. “Messy. Brave, though. I’ll give her that. I’m almost sorry she escaped. She would’ve been fun to break.”
My stomach clenched, anger flaring so hot it nearly blurred my vision. “She won’t stop,” I said. “She’ll bring them.”
Jasper’s thumb traced the edge of my mouth, slow and deliberate, the kind of touch meant to make my skin crawl. He wanted me to flinch. He wanted me to be small, but I kept my face still.
“They will never find you,” he said.
The words were meant to land like a verdict.
I let them land, then filed them away the way I’d filed the turns in the road.
Never find you meant they thought they’d chosen a place that didn’t exist on any map anyone used. It meant theywere confident. It meant they were sloppy enough to believe confidence was the same as safety.
We kept walking.
The woods stretched on, dark and swallowing, sound dampened by moss and pine needles. Every few steps, I marked something. A fallen log. A split trunk. The way the ground dipped, then rose. A distant mechanical whine that came and went like a heartbeat.
They were taking me somewhere built to stay hidden.
Somewhere that had been used before.
My wrists burned. The zip tie cut deeper with each movement. I rolled my shoulders subtly, shifting the pressure so it wouldn’t slice the same spot raw. Pain was information. Pain was something to manage.
Zach’s grip tightened once when I adjusted my stride.
I looked at him. “You scared I’ll run?”
His mouth twitched like he wanted to say no. He didn’t, and that told me enough too.
Jasper’s smile widened like he enjoyed the tension. Like he fed on it. “You’re still fighting,” he murmured, almost appreciative. “That fire. That’s what made you so worth the work.”
