We’re going home.
He’s here with me.
It’s going to be okay.
I want to believe him, but I’m not sure if I can. There’s a nagging sensation that we’re reaching the end and not as in the they-all-lived-happily-ever-after, but as in the tragic finality of a nightmare.
My mouth is dry, my blood feels funny as it courses through my veins. Never thought much about breathing until this all happened. How air feels so good coming into my lungs and refreshing as it leaves. How each inhale and exhale is a gift.
Never thought too much about how a comforting touch from someone you care for is a blessing. Chevy is a blessing. Breathing is a gift. My heart beats a bit faster. I could be on the verge of losing both.
The car leaves the smoothness of a paved road and Chevy and I jostle into each other as the car dips and rocks. We’re on a dirt path. A knot forms in my throat. Not good. Not good at all. My stomach flips, and I breathe out to try to calm my nerves, but it doesn’t help.
Chevy shifts, his head near mine, his breath warm on my ear. “You and me, Violet. We’re going to get through this. Just do what I say when I say it.”
I nod. Together. We’re going to survive this together.
The car slows to a stop, a door opens and my heart beats in my ears. Chevy fidgets next to me, leaning forward. There’s a click, and a loosening of the handcuff and then the blindfold is lifted from my eyes. I blink at the brightness and snap my head in Chevy’s direction when his door opens. Both of his hands are free, the handcuff still on my wrist, but I’m not bound to anyone or anything anymore.
Chevy slides out and I scramble across the seat to follow. Frantically, I glance around, searching for Eli, but besides Justin, there’s not another living soul. Trees. Lots of trees. Trees full of colored leaves and the sunlight filtering through the thick branches, but no Eli.
They lied.
A hollowness in my stomach and the world tilts. Chevy grabs my hand and yanks me. “Run, Violet!”
He shoves me away from the car, away from Justin, away from him, but instead I reach out for Chevy, to force him to come with me. I will not abandon him now.
“Eli’s at the other end of this road,” Justin says in such a calm way that it’s frightening. “A half mile. I didn’t bring you out here to kill you, I’m sending you home.”
I grab on to Chevy’s wrist. He readjusts, taking my fingers with his.
Justin sets his hard glare on me. “I already explained we want peace. Me and Eli in the same breathing space means war. Safer for both of our clubs to drop you off here.”
“Then get in the car and leave,” Chevy says.
Justin glances over me, as if he’s trying to judge whether or not I’ll do what he’s asked. As a reminder of what they could do to my brother and mother if I don’t.
Without another word, Justin returns to the car. The world has an unreal quality to it, as if I’m watching a movie, as he U-turns and drives back the way he came.
We’re free.
Yet the adrenaline coursing through my veins doesn’t feel like relief. My back itches like someone is watching, my entire body vibrates with the sense we’re about to be ambushed—as if I’ll never be safe again.
The wind blows through the trees, making a clapping sound, and the breeze is cold against my cheeks. Chevy’s hand is warm and strong. We watch Justin’s car leave. Rocks cracking under the pressure of the tires. Dirt blowing up as a cloud in the wind.
The dust settles, the car retreats around a bend, the sound of the rocks being driven over and the purring engine fade yet we still stare in the direction Justin disappeared. As if we’re both frightened to turn our backs and tempt fate to drag us back to the basement prison.
Chevy pulls on my hand. “Let’s go.”
He steps forward, I walk with him and unbelievable pain shoots through my knee. I falter, clinging to Chevy as I try not to fall to the ground. The pain then leaks into my blood and every bruise, every cut throbs in agony. I gasp, confused how I had gone from no pain to sheer torture.
Chevy steadies me. “You okay?”
I nod, but I’m not, and from the sympathetic way he looks at me, he’s aware. With a sturdy arm around my waist, we go forward. Each step causes my muscles to twinge, my knee to give, bringing me to a new level of exhaustion, but each of those steps brings me closer to home, brings Chevy closer to home, and he needs to be home.
He needs stitches for the gash on his head, he needs a doctor to look at the eye that’s so swollen I’m sure he can barely see and he needs to be safe and secure and as far from the Riot as possible.
We hobble up a hill and that’s when we see them—Eli, Cyrus, Pigpen and a whole group of men. They’re leaning against their motorcycles, but the moment they see us, they straighten and some of them are on the move in our direction. Chevy’s grip tightens on me and I lean into him. My eyes water and it becomes too blurry to see. We made it. We’re going home.