“Finally,” Cherry muttered, moving to unlock it.
Ginny slipped inside, slightly breathless, her arms full of small boxes. “Sorry I took so long,” she said, setting everything down on the counter. “The line at the store was insane, and then I had to make sure no one was following me back here.”
Jeremiah was already tearing into one of the boxes. “Everyone take one and program in everyone else's new numbers,” he said. “And for god's sake, turn off the location services, just in case.”
We spent the next few minutes setting up the burner phones, the room filled with the sounds of plastic crinkling and buttons beeping.
“Okay,” Cherry said once we'd all exchanged our new numbers. “Let's get out of here before someone notices we've been holed up in the costume room for too long.”
We filed out carefully, Cherry leading the way through the theater's back corridors. The van was parked in the loading area behind the building—a white fifteen-passenger vehicle with‘BHU Theater Department’stenciled on the side in faded blue letters.
“Everybody in,” Cherry said, unlocking the doors. “And keep your heads down until we're off campus.”
I climbed into the back row, Jeremiah sliding in beside me while Dylan took the passenger seat and Ginny sat in the middle row. Cherry started the engine, and we pulled out of the loading zone.
The drive through campus felt interminable. Every car we passed, every person walking along the sidewalk, could be a hunter. Could be watching us.
But no one stopped us. No one gave chase.
And then we were finally off campus, merging onto the main road, and I felt like I could breathe again.
We stopped at a grocery store on the outskirts of the city, and Cherry and Ginny ran in while the rest of us waited in the van. They returned fifteen minutes later with bags full of snacks, bottled water, sandwiches, and ingredients for s'mores.
“We got flashlights too,” Ginny said, holding up a package. “In case the power is actually out at the cabin.”
“Good call,” Jeremiah said.
We started driving northeast, and Cherry pulled up to a traffic light, waiting to make a left turn onto the highway. A black sedan was in front of us, its blinker on for the same turn.
I was staring out the window, trying to calm my racing heart, when I saw him.
A figure in black standing on the corner. Black jeans, black jacket, black mask covering the upper half of his face. He was scanning the vehicles waiting at the light, methodical and patient… and then his gaze landed on our van.
On me.
Even through the mask, even from this distance, I knew those eyes. Knew the way he stood, the tilt of his head, the broad set of his shoulders.
Julian.
My breath caught in my throat. “Oh my god.”
“What?” Jeremiah asked, following my gaze. “Shit, is that—”
“A hunter,” Cherry finished, her hands tightening on the steering wheel. “Everyone stay calm. He's probably looking for someone else.”
But Julian wasn't looking away. His attention was fixed on our van, his head tilting slightly, like he was trying to see through the tinted windows. Trying to confirm what he suspected.
“He's staring right at us,” Ginny whispered, her voice tight with fear.
“He can't actually see in,” Dylan said, but he didn't sound convinced.
Julian took a step toward the van.
“Holy shit.” Jeremiah’s eyes bulged. “I think that’s Julian Valcourt!”
Dylan squinted. “Oh my god, you’re right, itis.”
“Cherry,” I said urgently. “We really need to go.”
