Five strangers crowd our makeshift camp. Three men, two women. A tall man with a scraggly beard and dead eyes holds a pistol aimed at my father’s chest. The two women rifle through our supplies, shoving food and water bottles into backpacks.
But that’s not what makes my blood freeze in my veins.
A lanky man with greasy hair has Amelia locked against him, a hunting knife held to the skin of her throat just enough to dimple the flesh without breaking it. Her eyes are wide, face drained of what little color she had left. His other hand grips her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck.
“Dakota.” My mother’s voice breaks on my name.
The man with the gun swivels toward us. His eyes crawl over my body before settling on Julien. “Well, hello, even more people to join the party.”
Julien nudges me behind him. “What do you want?”
“What does anyone want these days?” The man gestures with his gun. “Supplies. Transportation. Your little choir boy mentioned you have car keys.”
“I didn’t—” the reverend stutters from his corner, flinching when one of the women kicks him.
“Cameron.” Julien’s voice is calm, measured, as if we’re discussing dinner plans instead of being robbed at gunpoint. “Give them the keys.”
Cameron’s eyes dart between Sienna and the knife at Amelia’s throat.
“Now,” Julien says.
The man, who I guess is their leader, grins. “Smart man.”
Cameron moves slowly toward the small table and opens the drawer where we keep the keys. He hesitates, then picks up two sets and holds them out. Didn’t we have more?
“Sports car,” he says. “And the SUV.”
“That’s all?”
Cameron nods, his hands shaking slightly. “Unless you want to search the bodies.”
“Guess they’ll do.” The leader snatches the keys, jingling them like a prize. “Melissa, Trish. Go check it out. Load everything. And don’t forget the kitchen.” He tosses the keys to one of the women. “Make sure it’s not a trick.”
The women shoulder their stuffed backpacks and head for the door, weapons ready.
The reverend lurches forward. “Please. We have sick?—”
The butt of a gun from the third man cracks against the reverend’s skull, and he crumples to the floor with a whimper, blood trickling down his temple.
“Anyone else want to negotiate?” The leader’s eyes scan the room, landing on me. “No? Good.”
I squeeze closer to Julien’s back, feeling his body vibrate with tension.
The leader notices a slow smile spreading across his face. “This your woman?”
“Back off,” Julien says.
The leader ignores him, stepping closer and reaching past him to touch my face. I jerk back, and Julien’s hand shoots up, gripping the man’s wrist.
“You have our supplies and cars,” Julien says. “Take them and leave.”
The leader considers him, head tilting like a curious dog. Then his eyes slide back to me, traveling down my body like oily fingers.
“She’s not my type anyway.” He twists free and steps back, gun shifting to point at Rosa. “We’ll wait for our friends to report back.”
No one speaks. The only sounds are Amelia’s ragged breathing and the muffled sobs of the reverend. I don’t dare look at my sister, afraid of what I’ll see in her eyes, or worse, what I won’t.
I wasn’t there for her. If I had been here?—
