Ash's heart was still pounding in her chest as the truck disappeared from view. Her eyes stayed on Eve, whose body remained rigid, locked in place by some invisible weight. The silence between them was charged with quiet tension, crackling in the air like a summer storm. Eve hadn't moved. She hadn't even taken a breath that Ash could hear.
"What the hell was that?" Ash broke first, her whisper cracked as the panic threatened to empty her stomach.
Eve didn't answer right away. She just kept staring, eyes narrowed, jaw tight. She stood with a quick, jerky motion, swiping the back of her hand across her forehead. Her breath was shallow, and her movements were calculated, deliberate, but Ash could see the cracks in her tough exterior—the trembling in her hands, the sharpness of her gaze as if she were searching for something, anything, to ground herself.
"We need to move." Eve's voice was clipped, devoid of explanation.
Ash stepped forward. "Wait. Who were they? Do you know them?"
Eve's gaze flicked to her briefly before she turned, heading into the trees. "Not now."
Ash's stomach churned. She knew better than to push, but the look on Eve's face—a mixture of fear and anger, like something raw and unforgiving—made it impossible for Ash to just let it go. There was something in Eve's past, something buried deep, and Ash wasn't sure if she was ready to know, but she was damn sure she wouldn't get the chance if they kept running.
But Eve was already moving ahead, faster now, her footsteps crunching through the underbrush. Ash followed, instinctively keeping a few paces behind. The woods felt suffocating in the silence, the trees looming like giants, watching them, judging them. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of pine and decay, but Ash couldn't ignore the uneasy feeling crawling under her skin.
"Eve," Ash pressed again, her voice softer this time, more pleading. "You can't just leave me hanging. Who are they?"
Eve didn't stop. She didn't even look back as she kept moving. But Ash could see the subtle tension in her shoulders, the way she clenched her jaw as if holding back something, something volatile.
"They're bad news," Eve finally said, her voice low, tight. "People I'd rather not run into. People I owe something to."
"Ash's heart skipped a beat. The way Eve said it—like it was a debt she'd never escape—told her enough." Eve wasn't just trying to survive. She was running from something far darker than Ash had imagined.
Before Ash could press further, Eve veered sharply, her figure disappearing into a dense thicket of trees. Ash followed, not daring to lose her. The rustling of the leaves, the distant call of birds, the steady crunch of their footsteps—it all felt too loud, too exposed. The world felt too small, like it was closing in around them, and Ash's mind raced, spinning with the realization that whoever those men were, they weren't just some random group of survivors.
They were hunting Eve.
And that, Ash realized, made everything else—every silent glance, every unspoken word, every angry shove—suddenly feel a hell of a lot more dangerous.
Eve's eyes flicked back briefly, her expression unreadable. "We can't stop until we're far away. Not until we've lost them."
Ash tightened her grip around the strap of her backpack, her pulse still hammering from the encounter. The men in the truck were gone, but their presence lingered, thick in the air like smoke. Eve was barely standing, her face pale, her breathing too shallow.
"We need to check your leg," Ash said, her voice firm despite the knot of worry tightening in her chest.
"I'm fine," Eve shot back, but the lie was thin, unraveling in the way her body swayed.
Ash clenched her teeth, forcing back her frustration. "You're not fine. You're barely staying upright."
Eve ignored her, pushing forward through the thick underbrush, her steps uneven, her breath coming sharp and ragged. The house was a lost cause—too exposed, too dangerous. Eve had been right. But now they were running on fumes, and Ash could see it: Eve was unraveling
The trees stretched taller around them, swallowing them whole, the canopy blotting out the gray sky. Each step took them deeper—away from the road, away from shelter, away from anyone who could help when Eve collapsed.
Ash kept a few paces behind, watching the way Eve's shoulders tensed with every breath, the way her fingers curled slightly like she was bracing herself for the next wave of pain.
She wasn't going to make it much longer.
The realization hit Ash like a slap. Eve was strong, but strength had limits—and she was slamming into hers.
"You need to slow down," Ash tried again, softer this time.
Eve didn't answer, just kept moving, like she could outrun the pain if she pushed hard enough. But her body was betraying her. Her steps were dragging now, her breathing quick and shallow.
Ash caught up, reaching out instinctively, but Eve jerked away. "I said I'm fine," she snapped, though the words barely carried any weight.
Ash exhaled sharply, anger flickering behind her exhaustion. "And I say you're full of shit."
Eve didn't argue, didn't even look at her. She just kept walking.
Then, something in the trees caught Ash's attention. A flicker of movement, just beyond the thick brush. Her breath hitched.
"Wait—" she started, lifting a hand to point.
Eve made a low sound—half gasp, half groan.
Ash turned just in time to see her crumble.
It happened too fast. One moment, Eve was there—stubborn, pushing forward. The next, her knees buckled and she hit the dirt hard, her body folding like a marionette with its strings cut.
"Shit!" Ash rushed to her side, dropping to her knees. She grabbed Eve's shoulders, shaking her slightly. "Hey, stay with me—Eve!"
Nothing. Eve's lashes fluttered, her breathing ragged. The heat of her skin burned against Ash's palms.
Panic clawed at her throat. They couldn't stay out in the open.
Swallowing hard, Ash looked back toward the trees where she'd seen the movement. Whatever was out there, she had two choices—stay and risk it, or move and hope they weren't walking into something worse.
Either way, she needed to get Eve out of sight. Now.
Ash wrapped her arms under Eve's shoulders, cursing under her breath as she tried to drag her upright. Eve groaned, just barely conscious, her head lolling against Ash's collarbone.
"Don't you dare die on me," Ash whispered, voice trembling with something too close to fear. "Not after all this."
The woods felt colder now. Even with the press of Eve's fever-warm skin, a chill settled into Ash's bones. She didn't know if it was the adrenaline crash or the creeping sense that something was watching them—but either way, she moved faster.
There was no path. Just roots and shadows and the ever-present crunch of dead leaves underfoot. Ash's legs burned, but she didn't stop. Not until she spotted the hollow of an old tree, gnarled and broken open like a wound in the earth. It wasn't perfect, but it was something.
She lowered Eve slowly, bracing her against the trunk. The moment Ash let go, Eve slumped, unconscious again. Her skin was clammy, lips too pale.
"Okay. Okay. Think,"The tourniquet hadn't held. It had slipped loose somewhere in the chaos, and blood was leaking again—thick and slow, oozing instead of spurting. That was something, at least. Her femoral artery wasn't hit. Not yet.
Ash moved fast. No second-guessing. She yanked off her backpack, then tore off her sports bra—the cleanest thing she had left. Her hands shook as she cut it into strips, stuffing the fabric into the wound, pressing down hard.
Eve let out a low groan, her face twitching with pain, but she didn't wake.
Ash kept going. Press, breathe, press again. Blood soaked the cloth, but eventually it started to slow.
She tied the remaining strips around the leg, tighter this time, pulling until her knuckles went white. The knot held. The bleeding stopped. It wasn't perfect. Hell, it wasn't even good.
But it would have to do.
Ash looked at Eve—really looked at her. Pale, sweating, unconscious. Vulnerable in a way she never let herself be. The girl who didn't flinch when a gun was pulled. The girl who walked like nothing could touch her.
And now she was bleeding out under a tree in the middle of nowhere, all because some ghosts from her past had decided to come knocking.
Ash curled her fingers into fists. Her fear was still there, still buzzing under her skin, but beneath it—deeper—was something hotter. Anger. Not at Eve. Not even at the men in the truck. But at the world. At whatever force kept kicking them down every time they started to crawl up.
"I don't care who they are," she whispered, brushing a strand of hair from Eve's damp forehead. "I'm not letting them have you."
Something rustled in the trees again.
Ash froze.
She waited. Counted her heartbeats.
One. Two. Three—
Silence.
She gripped the handle of her knife, holding her breath. The shadows between the trees felt closer now, thicker, like they were hiding something just out of reach. But nothing came.
Not yet.
Ash turned back to Eve, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. "You're gonna get through this," she said, even if it was a lie. "We both are."
She didn't know where they'd go next. Didn't know how long Eve had before that leg gave out completely. But Ash knew one thing for sure.
Whatever was coming, she'd face it—teeth bared, fists clenched—because they could take everything else, but they weren't taking Eve.