A few hours later,we make it home. Me, Micah, and Molly. I’m so happy it feels like it’s spilling right out of my body.
Molly barks joyfully as she runs circles around the camper, making sure everything is in order and then snuffling demandingly at the door until I let her inside.
Micah and I smile at each other as we follow the dog in.
“It feels like home,” Micah says, reaching over to pull me into a hug. “I know it’s not the same as it is for you, but it feels like home to me now too.”
“Well, it should. Because it is your home.” I glance at Molly, who’s jumped onto the bed and is gazing at me with big eyes and lolling tongue. Then I smile back up at Micah. “All three of us are home.”
EPILOGUE
Six months later,I’m crouched with Micah and Burgundy at the top of a steep cliff that overlooks one of the main roads that run through the Wild, peering through the scope of my rifle.
“Yep,” I say, glancing back toward the others. “It’s definitely Holy Rollers. I can see the clothes the guys in the back are wearing.”
“How many?” Micah asks.
“Two in the cab and two in the back. They’re heading this way.”
“Shoot the driver.” That’s Burgundy, sounding colder than a warm-hearted woman should ever sound. Her months at the Holy Compound didn’t change her completely. Most of the time, according to Micah, she’s who she’s always been. But whenever the Holy Rollers are even mentioned, she ices up with startling ruthlessness.
She hasn’t forgiven or forgotten. She hates them even more than I do.
Micah worries about her, but I get it. I’d be the same if I was trapped there as long as she was.
“Not until they cross over into our territory,” I say.
“What do you think they’re about to do? They’ll reach the boundary in less than five minutes.”
“So I’ll shoot in five minutes.”
“No reason to piss off Logan for no reason.” That’s Micah, trying to smooth over conflict.
Burgundy gives her brother a chilly look. “Logan can go to hell. He doesn’t make decisions for me.” Then something happens and she shakes off the mood. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
Micah shrugs and gives her a soft punch on the shoulder. “No worries. Kinda fun to see you so fierce.”
It’s impossible to resist Micah when he turns on the charm, and Burgundy relaxes into a quiet chuckle. “Maybe I’ve always been fiercer than you think.”
“No doubt. We should go down to the road so we’re ready when Kat shoots the driver.”
Burgundy likes this idea, and I watch the two of them hike down the ridge until they’re out of sight in the trees. Then I line up the scope and keep the rifle trained on the driver as the vehicle continues approaching.
There’s one more turnoff before the boundary to Logan’s territory. If the Holy Rollers turn on that gravel road, then I won’t shoot them.
No matter how I feel about those people, I won’t kill indiscriminately. I won’t shoot them unless they cross a clear line.
Right now, that line is the boundary marker, and they’ve been warned multiple times about doing so.
Logan isn’t violent for the sake of violence, but he doesn’t pull punches and he doesn’t give second chances.
Crossing into our territory is an act of war.
The truck doesn’t turn at the side road, so I get ready. I wait until the vehicle has passed the two-trunked tree I always use as a landmark.
Then I suck in a long, slow breath, line up the sight, and pull the trigger.
I hit the driver exactly as I intended, and the truck veers wildly off the road, stalling out in the ditch beside it. Micah and Burgundy are already in place, taking out the remaining men when they start firing back.
