TWENTY-FOUR
The truth sits between us,heavy and suffocating.
Bria isstill staring at the frozen screen, at the last image of her mother. Alive, fighting, desperateto finish what she started. Her jaw clenches, hands trembling against the wooden desk as she grips the edge like it’s the only thing holding her together.
I should say something.
But what the hell do you say to that?
Neither of us move.
The only sound is the faint hum of the laptop’s cooling fan, the soft creak of the wooden floor beneath my shifting weight. My throat tightens, my pulse pounding so loud it drowns out everything else.
Bria breathes in.Breathes out.
“So,” she murmurs, voice hollow. “Are you ready?”
I force myself toswallow the lump in my throat, to push past the weight sitting heavy on my chest. “We have to rest, Bria.” I know we do. We’ve driven half way across the country, discovering a truth that will shatter everything back home.
Bria scoffs, shaking her head. “They buried the truth! We have no time to rest. I will sleep peacefully when they’re six feet under the ground.”
Imeet her eyes, the weight of what we just sawpressing down on my chest like a stone. Then, a twig snaps outside.
We all still, Elenor’s hand reaching over to grab a rifle. She puts her finger to her lips.
A second of tense, brittle silence.
Then, the first shot shatters the window.
Glass explodeseverywhere, raining down in shards, slicing into the wooden floor, into my skin, my face. My earsring violentlyfrom the gunfire, the echo of the explosion consuming everything.
Eleanor leads us to the back of the house, hovering over our bodies with hers. “Eleanor,” Bria grabs her face. “Go out the back and go home. This isn’t your fight and I will not allow you to be harmed.” She sounds so much like her brother it makes me ache.
“I will protect you two.” She states, pulling down a wooden desk as a shield.
“Do your kids have grandchildren?” She asks, not flinching as bullets rip apart the house.
Eleanor nods, tears streaming down her face.
“They need you more than we do, go. Thank you for everything but leave.”
Gunfirerips through the house, bulletstearing through walls, splintering furniture, whizzing past our heads. The entire placeerupts into chaos as Eleanor slips out the backdoor.
Bria reacts, grabbing me by the arm andshoving me downbehind the overturned table.
Her breath issharp, erratic. “We need to move.Now.”
I nod, mypulse hammering against my ribs. “How did they track us?”
Briacurses under her breath. “Zeik.”
Another shotslams into the table beside me, splintering wood.
No more waiting.No more thinking.
Werun out the back door, flanking left as we watch Eleanor already deep in the woods to our right. She’s safe.
Theair is thick with smoke, heavy and suffocating.
