The sirens faded.
That was the worst part.
Hannah drifted somewhere between darkness and sound.
Voices had been there.
Lights.
Hope.
Then nothing.
When consciousness returned, it did so slowly — through pain first.
Her head throbbed.
Her ribs ached.
Her wrists burned.
She tried to move.
Couldn't.
Her hands were bound behind her back.
Her ankles were secured tightly to a metal support beam bolted into the cabin floor.
She was back.
The air smelled like damp wood and iron.
Across the room, Emily sat crumpled against the wall, eyes swollen from crying.
When she noticed Hannah's slight movement, she gasped softly.
"You're awake."
Hannah blinked through the haze.
"What… happened?"
"You ran," Emily whispered. "You screamed. Someone heard."
Hannah's pulse jumped.
"Police?"
"I don't know. He brought you back. He was bleeding."
That part cut through the fog.
Hannah turned her head slightly.
Jack sat at the small table near the front window, shirt off, pressing gauze against a wound along his side.
The stab had been shallow enough to draw blood, not enough to slow him permanently.
His jaw was clenched tight.
He wasn't looking at them.
He was thinking.
The difference was worse.
"You should've kept running," Emily whispered shakily.
"I tried," Hannah croaked.
She closed her eyes briefly, remembering the headlights.
The truck.
The scream.
He had tackled her before she reached the road.
But someone had seen.
Someone had heard.
That mattered.
Jack stood slowly, adjusting the makeshift bandage around his ribs.
He walked toward Hannah without speaking.
Her breathing quickened.
He crouched in front of her.
"You embarrassed me," he said quietly.
His voice wasn't raised.
That was worse.
"You think this is about embarrassment?" Hannah managed.
He studied her face.
"You created noise."
"You attacked me."
"You were selected."
Hannah swallowed hard.
"I'm not her."
His eyes flickered.
"I know."
There was something unhinged beneath that calm now.
"You're proving something," she said carefully.
He tilted his head slightly.
"To him?"
That struck something.
His expression shifted — just for a moment.
Emily noticed it too.
"You want him to feel this," Hannah continued.
Jack's jaw tightened.
"You don't understand."
"Then explain it."
He stood abruptly, pacing once across the room.
"This was avoidable," he muttered.
"You made it unavoidable."
Hannah's mind raced.
The police had responded.
They had seen blood.
He knew that.
"You're running out of space," she said.
He stopped.
"You don't think I know that?"
For the first time, his voice cracked with something close to fury.
"I had control. I had structure. And he took that."
Emily flinched as he slammed his fist into the table.
The wood splintered slightly.
"You're not in control now," Hannah whispered.
He turned sharply toward her.
In two strides, he was back in front of her.
"You don't get to define control."
He grabbed her jaw roughly, forcing her to look at him.
"You think screaming gives you power?"
She didn't answer.
He released her with a shove.
Emily began crying harder.
"I just want to go home," she sobbed.
"Please. I won't tell anyone. I won't say anything."
Jack looked at her for a long moment.
"You already have," he said quietly.
The words chilled the air.
Because she had screamed.
Hannah had screamed.
Someone had called.
He walked to the window and looked out into the trees.
The cabin sat deeper than the last one had.
More concealed.
Better hidden.
No direct road access within sightline.
The dirt path wound through trees before reaching the clearing.
From the outside, it would look abandoned.
But the scream had changed things.
He knew the patrol would sweep the region.
Not precisely.
But generally.
And general pressure meant mistakes.
He could move again.
He should move.
But movement meant vulnerability.
And he hated vulnerability.
Back in Branson, Brian stood over a map layered with recent call data and patrol response times.
County Road 18 is circled in red.
"That's where the witness saw the struggle," the Lieutenant said.
"Yes."
"No structure found within immediate sweep radius."
"Not yet," Brian corrected.
He pointed to a cluster of wooded parcels within a five-mile range.
"Old hunting leases. Seasonal properties. Some unregistered."
"You think he went back to a fixed location?"
"I think he's bleeding," Brian said quietly.
"And injured predators retreat to shelter."
Search teams expanded grid lines.
Helicopters were scanned with thermal again.
Nothing definitive.
Jack knew how to avoid aerial detection now.
He'd learned from the first cabin.
Brian stared at the map longer than necessary.
"You're close," he muttered to himself.
Inside the cabin, Hannah tested the rope at her wrists.
Tight.
Professional.
Jack hadn't rushed the bindings this time.
He'd reinforced them.
He was adapting.
That meant he was thinking.
Which meant there was still time.
Emily looked at her through tear-filled eyes.
"I can't do this," she whispered.
"Yes, you can," Hannah said firmly.
"How?"
"You breathe."
"I don't want to die."
"You're not going to."
Hannah forced conviction into her voice even as fear coiled tightly in her stomach.
She studied the room carefully.
One window.
One door.
One back corner is partially concealed by stacked crates.
Jack had cleaned most surfaces after returning.
No knife in sight now.
No loose objects within reach.
He had learned from her first attempt.
But the injury made people impatient.
And impatience made cracks.
Jack moved toward a small duffel bag again, checking supplies.
Water bottles.
Rope.
Medical tape.
He paused when he heard a faint, distant hum.
Helicopter.
Far away.
But audible.
He closed his eyes briefly.
"They're not going to stop," he muttered.
Hannah seized the moment.
"You can end this."
He ignored her.
"They're tightening."
He paced once.
Then twice.
He pressed his hand against his side again.
Pain flickered across his face.
The stab had rattled him more than he wanted to admit.
"You're injured," Hannah said carefully.
"I'll heal."
"And then what?"
He didn't answer.
Because there wasn't a clear after.
Only continuation.
Hours passed.
Night deepened.
Search activity faded in the distance.
Jack sat near the door, listening.
Listening for engines.
Footsteps.
Dogs.
Nothing.
Silence again.
The scream had created noise.
But not enough.
Not yet.
Hannah's head throbbed as she fought exhaustion.
Emily eventually drifted into a shallow, shaking sleep.
Jack remained awake.
Watching.
Waiting.
Bleeding.
The cabin still held them.
The police were close.
But not close enough.
And now—
He knew they were narrowing in.
Which meant—
His next move would need to be precise.
Because this time—
There would not be a third mistake.