The police station felt bigger on our way out.
Not because it was empty—
but because everything had been taken.
Footsteps echoed where guntal had clattered minutes ago. Racks stood naked against the walls, hooks bent and useless. Open crates yawned like broken mouths. Even the air felt stripped—lighter sohow, like the room had exhaled and never breathed back in.
We stepped outside one by one.
The street greeted us with the low hum of St. Louis still breathing.
Wind pushed trash across cracked asphalt. A sign creaked overhead, tal tapping tal in a slow, tired rhythm. Sowhere distant, sothing scread— infected or human, it didn’t matter anymore.
The truck was gone.
Not overturned.
Not abandoned.
Gone.
Oil stains marked where it had been parked. Fresh tracks cut through old gri, clean arcs turning back toward the city’s spine.
She hadn’t rushed.
She’d reversed. Turned. Taken her ti.
I stood there longer than I should’ve, staring at the empty space like it might correct itself.
Behind , soone swore under their breath.
Aubrey.
"So that’s it?" she said. "That’s what we get?"
I didn’t turn yet.
"We walk," Peter muttered weakly.
"With what?" Aubrey snapped. "Our fucking optimism?"
I finally faced her.
She was already halfway to , arms tight across her chest, jaw set like she’d been waiting for permission to explode.
"You gonna say sothing, leader?" she asked. "Or you saving that for another ex-girlfriend with a gun?"
A few people shifted. Nobody interrupted her.
"She didn’t take prisoners," Aubrey continued. "Didn’t kill us. Didn’t even hurry. She disard us, humiliated us, and left us breathing like it was a favor."
Her eyes burned into mine.
"That wasn’t chaos. That was control."
I nodded once.
"Yeah."
The word landed heavier than any excuse would’ve.
Her mouth twitched, like she’d been gearing up for a fight and instead hit a wall.
"So?" she pressed. "You admit it. Great. What now?"
I glanced past her— to the street, to the skyline clawing at the clouds. To the way the city watched us without caring.
"She didn’t take everything," I said.
Aubrey scoffed. "Oh? What’d she miss, your pride?"
"She left witnesses," I replied.
That slowed her.
I stepped past her, crouched by the tire tracks. They were deep. Confident. Too evenly spaced for panic.
"She could’ve killed us," I said. "Could’ve scattered us. She wanted us to see the empty space where the truck was."
I stood.
"She wanted us to understand what she can take."
Terri hugged herself tighter.
"So she’s... what?" she asked. "Just— playing with us?"
"No," I said quietly. "She’s recruiting."
That got everyone’s attention.
"Think about it," I continued. "She didn’t strip the station randomly. She didn’t rush the armory. She had enough people to cover exits, search us, move gear, and pull out clean."
I looked at the others now. Hale. Isabella. Cherie, watching like she was reading the angles.
"She’s built sothing," I said. "A camp, probably. A supply line. I’m sure of it."
Aubrey swallowed. "You’re saying she planned this."
"I’m saying she expected us. At least that.."
Silence followed that. Thick. Uncomfortable.
Lila hadn’t said a word.
She stood a little apart from the rest, arms wrapped around herself, eyes fixed on the street where the truck had disappeared. Her face was calm in the way storms get right before they break.
She didn’t look at .
That hurt more than Aubrey’s anger.
"So what?" Aubrey finally said. "We chase her? With what— rocks?"
"No," I said.
Her head snapped up. "Then what?"
I took a breath. Not to steady myself.
To commit.
"We’re gonna have to hold off going to Texas for now," I said.
The words landed like a dropped plate.
"What?" Peter said.
"Without any of our supplies and that busted car, we’re dead in three days." Aubrey stated the obvious.
I t her gaze.
"Which is why we get it back."
A few murmurs. Fear. Doubt. Sothing sharper beneath it— hope that didn’t want to show its face yet.
"You never explained your plan on how you were gonna do that." Aubrey said, folding her arms.
I didn’t answer imdiately.
I looked at the city.
At the routes Hailey would take that weren’t obvious. At the way she’d moved like she owned the place.
"She thinks I’m predictable," I said. "She thinks I’ll either chase blind or retreat."
I turned back to them.
"I won’t."
Cherie’s lips curved slightly. Not a smile. Interest.
Terri’s voice trembled. "Adrian... what are you thinking?"
I thought of Hailey’s grip in my hair.
Her voice when she said co ho.
The confidence in walking away without checking over her shoulder.
"She left us alive," I said. "Which ans she thinks she understands ."
I let that sit.
"She doesn’t. Not anymore."
The wind picked up, rattling glass sowhere above us.
"I’m not asking you to follow into sothing blind," I said. "Nor am I asking you to risk yourselves today. At least not in the way you think.
Aubrey narrowed her eyes. "That sounds like a speech."
Silence.
I took a step forward.
"We move quiet. Follow the tracks and learn where her little camp’s cooped up."
My voice dropped.
"Then I decide how much of myself I’m willing to spend to end this."
Lila finally looked at then.
Fear flickered across her face— not of Hailey.
Of what she thought I was about to do.
I held her gaze.
Not apologizing or promising.
Just...present.
I turned to the rest of them.
"This isn’t about getting revenge about the past, arguing about how things should’ve worked out."
Aubrey’s eyes narrowed.
"Our past lives are irrelevant now."
Those words seed to ground in a way I hadn’t realized.
"This is about not letting soone like her decide how we die."
No one spoke, but I felt the air had changed.
I knew Hailey probably thought she’d already won with whatever she was trying to set up.
She was wrong.
I cleared my throat.
"I’ll need three people with ," I said. "We’re taking the car and following the tracks."
The words settled heavier than I expected.
No one spoke at first. The city filled the gap—wind scraping trash along the curb, sothing distant clattering loose and hollow. I scanned the group, already knowing who I needed before I said their nas.
"Hale," I said. "Aubrey. And Terri."
It wasn’t a question.
Hale’s spine straightened imdiately, instinct kicking in. His jaw set, eyes sharpening—not afraid, just bracing. Aubrey’s reaction was slower. Her arms loosened from their fold, fingers flexing once like she was working sothing out internally. Terri inhaled sharply, shoulders drawing up as if the air itself had startled her.
Three different reactions.
The sa understanding.
I trusted those 3 enough for them to accompany .
Around us, the others shifted. So avoided looking at us altogether. Others stared too long. I felt it then— that subtle fracture that forms the mont a group realizes not everyone is going the sa distance forward.
"You sure about this?" Aubrey asked. Her voice was steady, but there was sothing under it. Not doubt. Calculation.
"I am."
Hale gave a single nod. "Tracks still fresh," he added. "If we’re doing this, we don’t wait."
Terri swallowed. "I—I can help," she said quickly, like she was afraid the mont would pass and take her resolve with it. "I’ll keep lookout. I won’t slow you down."
"I know," I said.
That’s when I felt it.
Not a sound.
Not a word.
Pressure.
I turned.
Lila stood where she’d been since we left the station, a few steps removed from the rest. Her hands were clenched tight at her sides now, knuckles pale, tendons standing out like they were under strain. Her expression had gone dark— not angry exactly, but wounded in a way that didn’t bleed outward.
She was staring at .
Not Hale.
Not Aubrey.
Or the others.
.
Like she was watching a door close.
For a second, no one else existed. The city fell away. The noise dulled.
I held her gaze once more.
Sothing in my chest shifted, sharp and quiet.
I softened my eyes— not by much. Just enough to let her see I wasn’t doing this blindly. Just enough to say I see you without saying co with .
Because that was the line.
If I crossed it, everything would fracture worse than it already had.
Her fists tightened further.
A flicker of sothing crossed her face— fear once again. Not of anything expected. Not of the imminent danger, the camp—
It was of leaving without her.
Of choosing my strength over hers.
I almost spoke.
Almost said her na.
Instead, I turned back to the car.
"We move light," I said. "No noise we don’t need. If the tracks break, we stop. If we spot anyone— anyone— we do everything we can to not engage. Theyll be heavily ard.
Aubrey watched closely as she stepped toward the vehicle. "You sound like you already know how this ends."
"I know how it starts," I replied.
Hale checked the street once more before following. Terri hesitated only a second, then moved too, jaw set with borrowed courage.
I opened the driver’s side door and paused, one hand on the fra.
The engine turned over rough and loud in the quiet street. As we pulled away, the police station shrank in the side mirror—along with the people we were leaving behind.
Including her.
The tracks curved ahead, dark and deliberate against the pavent.
And I followed them.
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