"At least gonna let finish pissing, dipshit?"
My voice ca out steady, with just enough bite to test him. I let a small edge of humor sit under it, the kind that could either ease tension or make things worse. Out here, it usually did the latter.
"Turn around."
The voice behind didn’t shake. Young, but trying hard not to sound it. There was tension in it, though. Tight. Controlled. Like he was holding sothing back.
"Nice and slow," he added.
I glanced down once, more out of habit than anything, then closed my eyes for half a second. My tongue pressed into the inside of my cheek as I let out a quiet breath through my nose. I could feel the weight of the gun behind without seeing it. The angle. The distance. Close enough that if he pulled the trigger, there wouldn’t be ti to do anything about it.
"Don’t make ask again."
The silence stretched. It pressed in from all sides. Even the river behind felt quieter now, like it had stepped back to watch.
I turned.
Slowly. Hands still raised.
The first thing I noticed was his stance. Slightly off balance, like he wasn’t used to holding soone at gunpoint for long periods. His arms were stiff, locked in place more by effort than control.
Then his face ca into focus.
Familiar.
Not in a clear way. Not like seeing soone you knew. It was buried deeper than that, under layers of other mories. Too much had happened. Too many faces. Too many monts my brain had shoved aside just to keep moving.
But there was sothing there.
And he saw it.
His eyes locked onto mine, searching hard. Desperate, almost. Like he needed sothing from . Recognition. Fear. Anything.
I gave him nothing.
His jaw tightened. The muscles along his cheek twitched once, then settled into sothing darker.
He stepped forward.
The gun never left as his free hand moved fast, rough, patting down. He wasn’t clean about it. Fingers digging into pockets, tugging at my jacket, checking my waistband.
I didn’t move.
"This is a mistake you’re making," I said.
He didn’t even hesitate.
"No. No it’s not."
He pulled my gun free from my waist, along with whatever else he could grab. I felt the absence imdiately, like a limb had gone numb.
Then he stepped behind .
Rough hands grabbed my wrists, yanking them back. Sothing thin and tight bit into my skin as he tied them together. Not clean knots. Quick. Desperate. It still held.
"Move."
He shoved forward.
I stumbled a step, caught myself, then started walking.
He stayed close. Too close. I could feel his breath at tis, uneven. Fast. There was sothing off about him. Not just anger. Sothing deeper, more personal.
"You should start praying," he said behind .
His voice ca out sharper this ti. Less controlled.
"Because I ain’t here to rob you. I’m here to make sure you don’t walk away from this."
I frowned slightly, turning my head just enough to try and catch him in my peripheral.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"You’ll find out soon enough," he snapped.
Yeah. I really needed to stop making enemies.
We didn’t get far.
The crack of a gunshot split the air.
It ca fast and clean. Close enough that I felt it in my chest before my ears caught up.
The kid reacted instantly. His hand shoved hard, throwing off balance as he dove the other way. The world tilted, and I hit the ground shoulder first, rolling onto my back.
Pain shot up my arm where my hands were tied behind .
I twisted, eyes snapping toward the source.
Naomi stood a few ters out, rifle braced against her shoulder. Smoke curled from the barrel as she adjusted her stance, already lining up another shot.
Her face was tight. Focused. Angry.
"Stop—!" I yelled.
She flinched, just barely, her aim shifting for a fraction of a second as she looked at .
"Save your bullets for later," I said. "Let handle this."
The kid was already getting back to his feet. His chest rose and fell hard, eyes locked onto now.
Not Naomi.
.
Sothing in his expression shifted. The anger sharpened. Focused.
I raised my tied hands slightly, stepping forward just enough to make it clear.
Co on.
He didn’t hesitate.
His hand dipped into his pocket and ca back out with a knife. The blade caught the light for a second before he lunged.
Fast.
Too fast for soone that untrained should’ve been.
I twisted, the blade slicing past my side close enough that I felt the air move. He ca again imdiately, swinging harder this ti, less controlled.
I stepped back, boots digging into the dirt, trying to create space. My hands were still bound, throwing off my balance, limiting everything I could do.
The lattice flickered at the edge of my awareness, trying to keep up, feeding half-ford predictions that ca a fraction too late.
He swung again.
I brought my arms up, taking the hit across my forearms instead of my chest. The blade scraped against bone, tearing fabric, biting just enough to sting.
I gritted my teeth and stepped in.
Closed the distance.
My shoulder slamd into his chest, knocking the wind out of him for a second. Not enough.
He snarled, driving the knife forward blindly. It grazed my side this ti, shallow but burning.
We stumbled together.
The ground rushed up.
We hit hard.
The impact knocked the air from my lungs. Dirt filled my mouth as I rolled, trying to get on top of him, but he fought like an animal. No technique. No restraint.
Just rage.
The knife ca down again.
I caught his wrist this ti, both hands straining against the binding as I forced it away from my face. His other hand slamd into my jaw. My head snapped to the side, stars bursting behind my eyes.
He hit again.
And again.
Warm blood started to run from my nose as his fists crashed into my arms, my shoulders, anywhere he could reach while I blocked my face.
"Stay still!" he spat. "Just fucking stay still!"
I grabbed his wrist tighter, twisting it. The knife shifted. Slipped.
Then suddenly—
The pressure on my wrists gave.
The binding snapped.
For half a second, neither of us reacted.
Then I moved.
I drove my elbow into his throat. Not clean, but enough to make him choke. His grip loosened. I wrenched his arm aside and shoved him over, flipping our positions.
Now I was on top.
I didn’t think. I just hit him.
Once.
Twice.
My knuckles split against his face, but I kept going. Blood sared across my hands as he tried to claw at , fingers digging into my neck, pulling, scratching.
He didn’t stop.
Didn’t even try to defend properly.
"I’m gonna fucking kill you..." he forced out, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth.
I froze for a split second.
His eyes.
There was nothing normal there. No hesitation. No fear.
Just pure, focused hatred.
Who the hell was this kid?
"Jesus—" Naomi muttered sowhere behind us. I could hear her shifting, trying to line up a shot. "Stay still, you idiots..."
We didn’t.
He bucked hard, throwing off balance. We rolled again, trading positions in the dirt, both of us gasping, slipping on blood and sweat.
I hesitated.
Just for a second.
He didn’t.
His hand found the knife again.
He swung.
I jerked back, but not fast enough.
The blade cut across my arm, shallow but sharp.
And then—
"Oh, for fuck’s sake."
The voice hit like a gunshot.
My stomach dropped.
Lila.
I looked up.
She moved fast. Too fast. One second Naomi had the rifle, the next it was gone, ripped from her hands like it weighed nothing.
Naomi swore, reaching for it, but Lila was already stepping forward, raising the gun.
Her eyes locked onto us.
No hesitation.
No calculation.
Just decision.
"Lila, NO—!" I shouted.
She pulled the trigger.
—
"He must’ve cut through here."
The man crouched low, fingers pressing into the mud beside a half-ford footprint. The rain from earlier had softened everything, but the shape was still there. Fresh enough to matter.
Behind him, the others stood spread out in a loose line. Two rifles, a shotgun, and a couple of knives that looked like they’d been sharpened more tis than they’d been cleaned. Nobody spoke much anymore unless it was necessary. Out here, talking felt like volunteering for trouble.
"I still think this is bullshit," one of them said.
The man stayed crouched a second longer, then slowly straightened up. His knees cracked as he stood. He turned his head toward the voice without rushing it.
"Yeah?" he asked.
The guy who spoke shifted his weight. He didn’t lower his gun, but his grip tightened. "Kid runs off in the middle of all this, leaves camp like it’s nothing, and we’re supposed to go drag him back like he’s so kind of priority? He’s reckless. He’s gonna get himself killed anyway."
The man took a step closer.
Then another.
He didn’t look like he was trying to intimidate him. That was the problem. He looked calm. Like this was just another conversation he had already had too many tis.
By the ti he stopped, he was close enough that the man could see the dirt stuck in the lines of his face and the dried blood near his knuckles.
Bill scratched the side of his nose, slow and deliberate, then looked off into the trees like he was thinking. When he spoke, his voice was flat.
"You watch that mouth of yours."
The other man blinked once. "Bill, seriously? You were the one who said—"
"I an it."
The interruption was quiet, but it landed heavy. Bill didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. His eyes did the work for him.
A few seconds passed.
The forest filled the gap. Wind moving through branches. Sothing far off that might’ve been an animal or might’ve been worse.
Bill turned his head slightly, looking past the man now, addressing the group instead.
"We made a promise to Sheryl," he said. "That no matter what, we find her son."
Nobody moved. Nobody argued right away. Even the guy who had been talking earlier just stared at the ground like it suddenly got interesting.
Bill continued.
"So that’s what we’re doing. We’re not debating it. We’re not second guessing it. We find him. Clear?"
A few hesitant nods ca after a beat. Not enthusiastic. Just acknowledgnt. The kind you gave when you knew the conversation wasn’t really optional.
"Clear," soone muttered.
Bill exhaled through his nose and turned away, already done with it. He spat into the dirt, like the taste of the conversation stuck on his tongue.
Then he looked down at the trail again, at the faint impressions in the mud.
"Kid’s been moving fast," he said, more to himself now.
He adjusted the rifle on his shoulder and started forward without waiting to see if the others followed.
They did.
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