The drive was so long that sleep finally took over me. I don't remember anything else after that.
When we arrived safely at James's place, I awoke slightly, realizing someone was carrying me. Every muscle of the person holding me was tense, and instinctively, I snuggled closer, burying my head in his neck, already knowing exactly who it was.
I was placed on a soft bed and covered with a silk blanket that felt cool and gentle against my rough, battered skin. For months, rest had eluded me—my mind trapped in constant fear, knowing Cara was stuck in that vicious place. But now, with her finally safe, I could allow myself a rare, peaceful sleep.
"James, you can't keep her here for long," Mitch whispered from the doorway while James paced, gathering things.
I pretended to be asleep, even as the morning sunlight crept through the window.
"Don't you think I know that?" James muttered, ruffling his hair in frustration. He walked to the edge of the bed, brushing a few strands of hair away from my forehead and tucking them gently behind my ear. Goosebumps erupted across my body, and my stomach twisted in a way I couldn't explain.
"I'm not leaving her unprotected," he added firmly.
I shifted slightly, remembering what James had said back on the boat—people normally move in their sleep. The thought almost made me smile.
"Then buy her a one-way ticket or something," Mitch suggested, catching me off guard.
I knew Mitch hated me—but I never realized he hated me this much.
"They'll find her easier that way, you idiot," James scoffed, standing from the bed and continuing to pace while packing duffel bags.
I couldn't take it anymore. I stirred beneath the covers, pretending to wake, letting my eyes flutter open slowly. The tension in the room shifted immediately.
"Uhm… what's happening?" I asked, glancing between James and Mitch.
James disappeared into the hallway and returned with a half-finished bottle of juice. I adjusted myself to sit upright on the bed, rubbing my eyes as if trying to adjust to the sunlight.
He handed me the bottle.
"I'm not drinking that," I said, folding my arms across my chest in disgust. Who knew what he might have done with it?
"Oh, come on—you need the energy," James insisted, shoving the bottle into my hands, challenging me with his eyes.
"It's just juice," he added, though I wasn't sure if he was trying to convince me—or himself.
"Juice with your saliva all over it," I snapped, pulling a face.
James looked at me with amusement while Mitch chuckled softly in the corner.
"Just think of it as a kiss," James said, lifting the bottle closer to my lips like it was the most normal thing in the world.
"James—" I started, but panic cut through me.
"Where's Cara?" I demanded, my voice sharp with pleading fear.
"She's in the guest room," James said quietly.
Relief rushed through me so violently that I had to press a hand over my chest to steady myself. "Is she okay?" I asked, my voice soft now, fragile at the edges.
James nodded. "Shaken. Exhausted. But safe."
Before James or Mitch could say anything else, I slipped into the bathroom, eager to clean up. The warm water soothed some of the grime and tension clinging to me, though it couldn't wash away the fear still lurking in my chest.
When I returned, I found a set of clean clothes neatly laid out on the bed—James must have placed them there while I was in the bathroom. Dressing quickly, I moved quietly through the house, careful not to make a sound.
Finally, I made my way to the guest room, heart pounding, anticipation and lingering anxiety twisting together inside me.
Seeing her for the first time in so long hit me harder than I expected. My chest tightened, my throat caught, and a rush of emotions—relief, love, guilt, and happiness—swept over me.
She's here. She's finally safe.
Over the past months, I had grown so close to her. The fear, the danger, and the constant struggle had drawn us together. She wasn't just someone I had to protect anymore; she had become like a little sister to me, a part of my life I couldn't imagine losing.
I took a careful step forward, brushing my hand against hers, feeling both fragility and strength all at once. "Cara," I whispered, my voice trembling, "you're safe now. You're really safe."
Her eyes flickered up at me, wide and exhausted, and a small, shaky smile broke across her face. Relief washed over me in waves. Finally. She was home.
Even as I held Cara's hand and felt a fragile sense of peace, a chill ran down my spine. Somewhere beyond these walls, the shadows of the people who had hunted us weren't gone—they were only waiting, watching, planning their next move. The quiet of the house felt temporary, fragile, as if at any moment the storm could return and rip everything away again.