The wind howled through the forest like a warning, scattering the scent of ash and blood as Amira pushed her body forward. Her legs trembled with every step, lungs raw from smoke inhalation, but she didn't slow. She couldn't. Not when Gabriel whimpered in Zion's arms, not when Rosalie's breathing came in short, panicked gasps behind her. Not when they were still being hunted.
"Just ahead," Lucia called from the front, her voice strained but steady. "I saw it earlier. There's a ranger's outpost up the ridge."
Amira gave a sharp nod, sweat and grime streaking her face. Her gun was clutched in her right hand, finger twitching near the trigger. Her left arm was wrapped around Rosalie's shoulder, helping her move. Every branch they passed cracked like a gunshot in her ears. Every shadow made her flinch.
When they finally broke into the clearing, the outpost loomed like a skeletal refuge, a log cabin with boarded windows and a sagging porch, but still standing.
Zion kicked open the door and stepped inside first, sweeping the room. "Clear."
They spilled into the space like ghosts. Rosalie collapsed against the nearest wall. Amira guided Gabriel to the cot in the corner while Zion covered the windows with an old tarp.
Lucia bolted the door. "We need heat. The kid's going into shock."
Amira turned to Rosalie. "Firewood?"
Rosalie nodded numbly. "I saw some out back."
"I'll get it." Amira stepped out into the bitter cold. Each gust of wind felt like knives against her skin. Her thoughts were louder than the wind, looping with Dominic's voice: You can't kill me. You don't have the stomach for it.
But she had. She'd driven the glass into his chest herself.
Back inside, Rosalie started a fire. The flames flickered, casting long shadows over Gabriel's pale face. He whimpered again. Zion checked the makeshift bandage. "He's stable… for now."
"Stable isn't good enough," Amira muttered, crouching beside him.
"No, it's not," Zion said. "He needs real care. A hospital."
"And how do you suggest we walk into one without getting caught?"
"I don't know!" Zion snapped. "But we're not doctors. We're playing a game we're not trained for, Amira. And it's going to get someone else killed."
"Then leave," she said coldly, standing. "If this is too much for you, go. No one's stopping you."
He stood too, towering over her. "Don't do that. Don't pretend this isn't eating you alive."
"It is," she admitted, her voice low. "But I'm still standing."
Zion's jaw tightened. He wanted to say something wanted to scream, maybe. But he turned away.
In the corner, Lucia pulled out a crumpled map. "Dominic wasn't the head. Just the front. He had investors. People with far more power and money."
Rosalie looked up. "You're saying there's more?"
"I'm saying we just cut off one head of the hydra," Lucia whispered. "And the rest? They'll be coming for us now."
Silence fell. The only sound was the crackle of fire and Gabriel's soft breathing.
Later that night, Amira stood outside the cabin. The trees loomed like black sentinels, guarding secrets. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she looked up at the stars.
"Celeste," she whispered. "I don't know if I'm doing this right. I don't even know who I am anymore."
The wind stirred, as if answering her.
She took a shaky breath. "But I'll keep going. I'll burn every last one of them if I have to."