I almost feel guilty as I shove her into the car, where Tristan gasps in surprise. I didn’t tell him she’d be with us, and I’m sure he’s never spoken to her. The only reason it had to be tonight was that I knew the front gate would be open for the delivery truck to come in. But then I wasn’t thinking about the girls who get taken away on those trucks. I was only thinking about my brother.
Now, as I start the car and begin the slow journey through the compound, I have to think about both of them. I want to hit the gas and get out of here as soon as possible, but I force myself to go against every instinct and drive like I’m not in any hurry.
“Stay low back there,” I grunt, barely moving my lips and staring straight ahead. I need to pretend nothing is strange about this, even when there’s blood rushing in my ears and the adrenaline pumping through my system demands I run.
The front gate is close. It’s open as I knew it would be. The truck will be here any minute. We’ll probably pass it on our way from the compound. First, we need to get out.
“We’re almost through the gate,” I whisper, nodding absently to the man on duty as we roll past the guard house. He doesn’t think anything of it, or at least he doesn’t react. Thank God because I never washed Dad’s blood from my hands.
Even once I’m through the gate, and my heart’s ready to explode, I can’t hit the gas. It would take no time for them to catch up to us, I’m sure. I have to pretend like this is an average trip out to pick up supplies or something—the stores are stillopen for another hour or two. The sort of thing I’ve done so many times without even thinking about it.
A pair of headlights catch my attention up ahead. The truck is coming our way. My hands are so sweaty they slide along the wheel. I tighten my grip, whispering, “Do not move. The truck is coming. They cannot see you. Stay down.”
It sounds like Leona might be crying, and a second later, Tristan’s soft whispering blends with the sound. He’s trying to comfort her. If I ever had a second doubt that what I was doing is the right thing, it dissolves when I hear it. He is a good kid with a big heart. A heart that would have been hardened before long.
The way mine always was before I met her.
The truck gets bigger with every second until the headlights threaten to blind me. I turn my face away a little, waiting for them to pass.
Then they’re gone, and I glance up into the rearview mirror to find the taillights getting smaller.
Is that it? Could it have been this simple?
Moments later, we reach the main road that leads to Reno, and there’s no sign of headlights behind us—nobody following us. Finally, I let out a long breath. “Okay. We’re out.”
Before pointing the car toward Reno, I look over my shoulder to where my brother and Leona are coming out of hiding. “Tristan, this is Leona. She’s… going to live with us now.”
The way she smiles through her tears tells me that’s the right move. The only move.
I make a right turn, then hit the gas.
EPILOGUE
LEONA
Six Months Later
“Tristan! Come on, let’s head back. I want to get dinner started.”
“Five more minutes?” He stands at the water’s edge, hands on his hips.
“You said five more minutes twenty minutes ago,” I remind him with a grin. “Come on, help me pack up our stuff.” Elijah will be home from work soon. It’s nice when we have a day off at the same time, but I sort of like having dinner ready for him when he gets home, too. I never would have thought of myself as wanting to be a homemaker, but I’m starting to come around to the idea.
So long as I’m with him, I’ll be anything he wants.
It’s only a few minutes’ walk to the apartment, a trip we’ve taken many times. Finding an apartment so close to the beach was like a miracle, but then life has been nothing but a series of miracles for the past six months as far as I’m concerned. The fact that we got away from New Haven in the first place was almosttoo much to believe—I barely slept the first few nights, so sure somebody would find us and take us back. Or worse, kill us for running away, for driving across the country until we reached Florida. By then, most of the money Elijah took from his dad was gone, and the car was practically running on fumes.
Lucky for us, there’s always work in a beach town. We both found jobs at a hotel a mile away, so it’s easy to walk back and forth in the Florida sunshine. Some nights, I’m so tired I can barely drag myself through the front door, but it’s worth it.
And when I wake up in the morning to the sound of the ocean, and the squawking of seagulls, I’m almost afraid this is a dream. Like I’ll wake up in that bunkhouse—or worse, tied to a bed where Henry looms over me, with all kinds of filthy ideas dancing behind his eyes.
Instead, I wake up next to Elijah while Tristan sleeps in the other bedroom next door. It’s not a very big place, and nobody would ever call it luxurious or even modern, but it’s just fine for us. I’ve never imagined being this happy, but then I couldn’t have imagined them, either. We’re a family, the three of us, and even though it took Tristan a little while to understand why we had to leave—and why we had to do it the way we did—it didn’t take long for him to come around. As it turns out, he understood a lot more than Elijah gave him credit for. He had overheard Rebecca and Henry talking more than once while he was supposed to be tucked away in bed, and he knew bad things were going on under our noses.
“Go get washed up,” I tell him once we’re home, kicking off our flip-flops inside the front door. “How does spaghetti sound?” I know it’s one of his favorites, but I always want to make it seem like he has a say in things.
“And garlic bread?”
“What do you think?” I tousle his curly hair and give him a gentle shove toward the bathroom while I get to work inthe kitchen. A soft breeze blows in through the open window, stirring the curtains, and something about it makes me insanely happy. Freedom. I came so close to having it taken away forever.
