The Last Bloom, Chapters 26-30
They have come for her. But who can she really trust to finally escape them?
26
Sassy followed the faint wails echoing through the narrow passage, each sound slicing into her like a blade. The tunnel sloped downward again, the air tightening and warming, as though she were moving closer to the core of something alive.
The ground vibrated softly beneath her palms.
Voices carried faintly hushed, ritualistic, rhythmic. Not supernatural but scripted, learned, repeated for generations.
“In devotion there is purpose.
In purpose there is clarity.
In clarity there is light.”
Sassy clenched her teeth as the words dredged up memories she didn’t want—women standing in circles, swaying, chanting, while she hid behind her mother’s skirt.
This is who they are, she told herself.
Not mystical.
Not divine.
Just broken people trying to force meaning onto children.
She moved faster.
The tunnel bent sharply, then opened into a small antechamber cut from raw stone. A lantern flickered weakly on the wall. On the floor—
Sassy’s heart stopped.
Jimmy lay on his side.
Hands bound.
Pulse visible in his neck.
A bruise blooming along his jaw.
Blood at his temple.
Still breathing.
“Jimmy—”
She dropped to her knees, dragging him gently into her lap. His eyelids fluttered.
“S-Sass?” His voice was low, slurred. He squinted up at her, disoriented. “Where—where are we?”
“The Garden took you,” she whispered, brushing hair from his forehead. “I’m getting you out.”
He tried pushing himself up but winced as pain shot through his ribs. “I heard them… talking. They think… they think I’m something I’m not.”
“I know,” she said, voice trembling. “They always have.”
His eyes focused on her, clearer now but full of fear he couldn’t mask. “Sassy… what if something inside me is—wrong? What if I’ve been pushed into you? Toward you? Since we were little? What if I’m the reason they found us here?”
Her throat tightened. “Jimmy—no. We choose each other. That’s real. You hear me?”
He swallowed hard. “But what if they can use me? What if I… help them somehow without meaning to?”
Sassy grabbed his face in both hands, forcing him to meet her gaze.
“Then we break whatever they believe. Together. You’re not what they think you are.”
Jimmy’s breaths turned shallow. “But I felt something, Sass. In that room. When they called me Protector. It was like—like a memory that wasn’t mine.”
Sassy’s stomach twisted.
Before she could respond, footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Voices.
Multiple.
Growing closer.
Jimmy pulled himself into a sitting position, fighting through the pain. “Go. Run.”
“No,” she said fiercely. “I’m not leaving you again.”
“Sassy, you have to. If they take you—”
“They won’t,” she snapped. “I found something. From my mother. Answers. And we need them.”
Jimmy’s brows drew together, dizzy and confused. “Answers… about what?”
“About the Protector. About you,” she said.
His voice faltered. “Sass… what did she write?”
Sassy opened her mouth—
But it was too late.
The chamber on the far end of the tunnel lit up—torches sparking to life one by one. A semicircle of hooded figures stepped into view, moving in silent formation. Their faces were obscured, but their posture radiated control, certainty, belief.
Two held staffs.
Two held ropes.
One stepped forward, lowering her hood slightly.
A woman with dark hair streaked with silver, eyes sharp and cold.
She smiled gently.
Too gently.
“Bloom,” she said softly. “You came.”
Sassy stood, fists tight. “You’re not my mother.”
“No,” the woman agreed calmly. “I’m not. But I am what she could have been, had she not broken the chain.”
Sassy’s blood went ice-cold.
Jimmy tried to rise, but two followers stepped forward quickly, gripping his arms, holding him down.
“No!” Sassy yelled, lunging—
The silver-streaked woman lifted her hand.
Every follower froze at once.
Not magically—
Rigidly.
Obediently.
Conditioned.
Sassy stopped in her tracks.
“Let him go.”
The woman tilted her head. “He cannot be released. He is essential. You both are.”
Jimmy struggled. “I’m not part of your sick doctrine.”
“Not by choice,” the woman said gently. “But lineage is lineage.”
Sassy’s chest ached. “Why us? Why him? Why did you choose us?”
The woman sighed, almost sadly.
“Child… we didn’t choose. The framework was laid long before your birth. Decades of observation. Generations of prophecy-writing. Belief shapes destiny more tightly than blood.”
“We don’t believe in you,” Sassy spat.
“But belief doesn’t need consent,” the woman replied.
Jimmy’s face tightened in fear and shame.
Sassy stepped forward. “If you hurt him—”
“We won’t,” the woman interrupted calmly. “He is the Protector. He will fulfill his role. And you—Bloom—will fulfill yours.”
Jimmy’s words came out in a broken whisper. “Sassy… don’t listen to them.”
Sassy’s hands trembled—but she lifted her chin.
“You think you know us,” she said, voice shaking but loud. “But you don’t.”
The woman smiled like a teacher indulging a student. “Oh, child. It is you who doesn’t know yourself.”
Sassy’s jaw clenched. “You’re wrong.”
“Am I?” the woman snarled.
She snapped her fingers.
Two followers stepped aside revealing something etched into the far wall behind them, soaked in brightness by the flickering light of the torch.
A mural.
Old.
But unmistakable.
A girl with Sassy’s hair.
A boy with Jimmy’s profile.
Standing hand in hand.
Not fate.
Not prophecy.
Not mysticism.
Indoctrination.
Drawn decades ago.
Sassy’s heart cracked. Jimmy let out a low, gutted sound.
The woman stepped closer.
“You were never accidents,” she said. “You were raised toward each other. The Bloom must love the Protector for the ritual to work. You were always a pair.”
Jimmy broke.
“No. NO. Our love is ours. You don’t get to claim it!”
The woman smiled.
“Children… everything you are—your fears, your attachments, your strengths—was carefully tended long before you noticed each other.”
Jimmy’s face collapsed. Sassy’s breath tore out of her lungs.
“We didn’t choose the prophecy,” the woman said softly.
“The prophecy chose you.”
Sassy’s eyes filled with tears.
“No,” she said hoarsely. “You’re not prophecy. You’re manipulators. You’re architects of trauma.”
But the woman only smiled.
“Come. Both of you. Your roles are waiting.”
As the followers stepped forward to seize Jimmy fully, Sassy’s heart split in two:
Half screaming for him.
Half screaming in rebellion against the pattern drawn for them.
She inhaled sharply—
hands closing into fists—
and made a decision that would change everything.
She would rescue him.
Break their doctrine.
Shatter the pattern.
But first, she would escape again. And she would come back armed with the truth.
27
The chamber spun around Sassy. Jimmy’s strangled voice echoing through the stone, the followers’ hands gripping him, the mural that rewrote their lives in strokes of delusion.
Her heart shuddered in her chest.
You were always a pair, the woman had said.
The prophecy chose you.
Sassy’s mind fractured.
But she didn’t collapse.
She didn’t surrender.
She ran.
Not away from Jimmy but toward the only exit the followers hadn’t blocked.
The narrow corridor she’d noticed earlier, half-hidden behind a crumbled pillar.
“STOP HER!” the silver-streaked woman commanded.
Sassy didn’t look back.
She sprinted through the tunnel, feet slapping against stone, lungs burning. Behind her, footsteps thundered. Chaotic but determined.
Jimmy shouted her name, voice raw:
“SASSY—RUN!”
She did. She ran with every ounce of fear, fury, love, and defiance tightening her muscles and turning her breath into fire.
The tunnel tilted upward, then sharply left, leading her into a cramped stone passage barely wide enough to squeeze through. She shoved herself forward, scraping her elbows, ignoring the sting of blood.
Behind her the followers stumbled, slowed by the tunnel’s narrowness.
Sassy pushed on. The passage opened into a cavern lit by a single lantern that flickered weakly over years of dust and debris. She froze. Someone was already there. A figure huddled near the far wall; arms wrapped tightly around their knees.
A girl.
No—older than a girl. Early twenties, maybe.
Her hair hung in dark, tangled waves, her clothes thin and dirty, her skin paled by months, maybe years, underground.
But it was her eyes that stopped Sassy cold.
Wide.
Haunted.
And familiar.
The girl flinched when she saw Sassy, pressing herself tighter into the corner.
“No,” she said hoarsely. “No more tests. I said no more…”
Sassy raised both hands slowly. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m trying to escape.”
The girl blinked at her, disoriented. “Escape…?”
Sassy nodded. “The Garden is behind me. You have to move. If you stay—”
The girl scrambled backward, shaking her head violently. “Don’t let them take me to the Light Room again. Don’t let them make me confess. I’ve confessed everything. There’s nothing left.”
Her voice broke on the word left.
Sassy’s blood ran cold. She recognized the tone. The fear. The vocabulary.
“Are… are you one of them?” Sassy asked. “A Bloom? A chosen girl?”
The girl’s laugh was cracked and hollow. “Chosen? No. No, I failed. They said my devotion was weak. They punished me for it. They left me down here after the last ritual went wrong.”
Sassy’s stomach twisted. “How long have you been here?”
The girl looked down at her hands—thin, trembling, marked with ash-stained fingerprints.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I lost track of days.”
Footsteps thundered farther down the tunnel. Time was running out.
Sassy moved closer. “What’s your name?”
The girl stiffened. Then, after a long moment:
“Wren.”
Sassy’s sucked in the thick, night air. “Wren… will you come with me?”
Wren shook her head. “I don’t go up there. If I go up, they’ll find me. They always find me.”
Sassy crouched, lowering her voice. “They’re coming now. They’re coming for me—and you’re right in their path. If they find you, they won’t bring you back for tests. They’ll finish the ritual you escaped.”
Wren’s face drained of color. “No…”
Footsteps grew louder. Voices echoed.
“Find her!”
“She won’t get far.”
“Check the side passages!”
Sassy grabbed Wren’s wrist gently. “I can’t do this alone. Jimmy—my friend—they’ve taken him. I need help. You know these tunnels better than anyone. Please.”
Wren trembled. Her eyes darted toward the corridor the followers would soon reach. And something shifted in her expression.
Hope.
Fear.
A spark of rebellion buried under years of pain.
She stood—unsteady but determined.
“This way,” Wren whispered, pulling Sassy toward a nearly invisible crack in the cavern wall.
Sassy hesitated. “That’s solid rock.”
“No,” Wren trembled. “The Garden teaches what to see—and what to ignore.”
She pressed her palm against the crack.
A hidden latch clicked. The wall swung inward, revealing a narrow stone chute.
Sassy stared in shock. “How did you—?”
“They hid it from the Bloom girls,” Wren said, eyes glinting. “But not from the failures.”
More footsteps. Closer. Sassy could hear the silver-streaked woman now, voice sharp and commanding.
“Do not let the Bloom reach the surface!”
Wren grabbed Sassy’s hand. “If you want to escape—go.”
They slipped into the chute and pulled the stone door shut behind them. Darkness swallowed them whole. But Sassy felt something she hadn’t felt in hours. A small, fragile thread of possibility. An unlikely ally.
Wren exhaled shakily in the dark. “If we survive, you’ll owe me.”
Sassy squeezed her hand. “If we survive, I’ll save him. I promise.”
Together, they descended deeper into the hidden passage—
leaving the Garden’s voices behind,
leaving Jimmy in their grasp,
and stepping into a darkness that might finally hold a way out.
28
The hidden passage was so narrow Sassy had to turn sideways just to breathe. The stone scraped her shoulders, and every footfall sent echoes spiraling into the dark beneath them. Wren moved ahead without hesitation, though her steps were cautious, practiced. Sassy followed, relying on the faint glow of Wren’s small, stolen lantern.
Far behind them, the echo of the Garden’s voices slowly dissolved into stone.
Sassy exhaled shakily. “How did you know about this tunnel?”
Wren didn’t answer at first. Her breath rasped quietly, and Sassy sensed she was deciding whether she trusted her.
Finally, Wren spoke, her voice thin but steady. “This passage was built for girls who were… removed.”
“Removed?” Sassy repeated, heartbeat spiking.
Wren nodded, lantern trembling slightly in her hand. “Used-up Blooms. Failed Blooms. Girls who didn’t rise to what the Garden expected. They taught us how to walk this route when we were no longer of value.”
Sassy’s stomach twisted. “They taught you to escape?”
Wren shook her head sharply. “Not escape.” She glanced back, eyes shimmering in the dim light. “To go away quietly. To disappear. To die, if we needed to.”
Sassy stumbled over a loose stone. “Wren—what did they do to you?”
Wren turned forward again, her hair falling like a curtain around her face. Her voice was flat. Detached. The voice of someone recalling a nightmare so often it had lost its sharp edges but not its pain.
“I was chosen at eight,” she began. “They said my dreams were clear. That my blood was receptive. That I was ‘obedient and open.’” A bitter laugh escaped her. “I was neither.”
Sassy’s heart clenched. “What did they—train—you for?”
“Readiness,” Wren explained. “We spent hours in the Light Room. Kneeling. Confessing. They said the Bloom needed purity. Clarity. No doubt. No fear.”
Sassy shuddered. “What happened if you showed fear?”
“They wrote it down.” Wren’s hands tightened around the lantern. “And then punished it.”
“Punished how?” Sassy asked softly, dreading the answer.
Wren’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Isolation. Starvation. Shaming. Chanting for hours. Sometimes… sometimes they touched your face and told you disappointment was your fault. That your destiny was slipping.”
“Wren…” Sassy said locking in on her gaze.
“It got worse when I turned twelve,” Wren continued. “I couldn’t memorize the doctrines. My voice cracked during chants. I didn’t ‘bind well’ with the Protector candidate they paired me with.”
Sassy froze. “Protector candidate?”
Wren nodded grimly. “They always tested boys. Kind boys. Loyal ones. Ones they thought could be shaped. Trained to attach to us.”
Sassy’s heart skipped a beat.
Jimmy.
Jimmy, who was always kind.
Always loyal.
“They told me my Protector rejected me,” Wren said. “That I was failing him. Failing fate.”
“That’s insane,” Sassy said, voice trembling. “None of this is real.”
Wren stopped walking. Completely.
She turned to Sassy, jaw tight. “It doesn’t matter if it’s real. They believe it. And belief is more powerful than any ritual.”
“Is that when they punished you?” Sassy knew the answer before she asked.
Wren nodded once. Hard.
“And when they were done… they led me to this tunnel. Told me I could leave quietly. That I wasn’t part of the Garden anymore. That a Bloom who doesn’t rise is an infection.”
Sassy’s stomach dropped. “They cast you out.”
“They buried me alive,” Wren said hollowly. “Down here. With no food. No light. No voice.”
Sassy covered her mouth, tears burning her eyes. “How are you still alive?”
Wren resumed walking, shoulders rigid. “Not because they wanted me to be.”
The tunnel opened slightly wider, and Sassy could see Wren more clearly now—her hollow cheeks, her trembling fingers, her scarred wrists.
Wren raised the lantern to a stone archway up ahead. Carved into it was a symbol: an hourglass broken down the center.
Sassy frowned. “What does that mean?”
Wren swallowed. “It means this path leads out. To the old waterworks beneath the Grove. The discarded initiates used it to disappear so the Garden didn’t have to dirty their hands.”
“And you didn’t leave,” Sassy said quietly.
Wren’s shoulders trembled. “I was afraid to see the sky again. Afraid they’d drag me back. Afraid I’d go mad if I left the dark.”
Sassy stepped closer, touching Wren’s arm gently. “You didn’t go mad.”
Wren laughed—brittle and broken. “Don’t be so sure.”
They walked deeper until the tunnel widened into a sloping stone ramp. The air changed—moister, fresher.
Sassy inhaled. “We’re close to the surface.”
Wren nodded. “But we’re not safe yet. They know these tunnels exist. They just think girls like me don’t matter enough to use them.”
Sassy took Wren’s hand. “You matter to me.”
Wren’s throat tightened. She looked away.
After a moment, she whispered, “Why did they take your boy?”
Sassy blinked at her. “What?”
“Your Protector,” Wren clarified. “He’s the one they want. The ritual doesn’t begin with you. It begins with him.”
Sassy’s pulse spiked as a wave of panic consumed her body and mind. “Why? Why him?”
Wren met her eyes.
“There are many Blooms,” she said. “But only one Protector.”
Sassy staggered back. “No—no, Jimmy isn’t—”
Wren squeezed her hand. “Sassy… he is. Whether he chose it or not. Whether you choose it or not. The Garden’s entire belief system hinges on him.”
Sassy’s lungs burned. “But they can’t use him. They won’t.”
Wren nodded. “Then we have to get to the surface. And fast.”
Sassy swallowed the rising panic, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
Behind them, somewhere deep in the labyrinth, she thought she heard Jimmy shout her name again.
She hardened.
“We’ll save him,” Sassy said, gripping Wren’s hand. “Together.”
Wren stared at her, eyes glistening.
Then, for the first time, she nodded with certainty.
“Together.”
They moved toward the light ahead—the secret exit of the discarded girls—ready to claw their way back into the world and rip the Garden’s doctrine apart, piece by poisoned piece.
29
The tunnel sloped upward at a sharper angle, the air growing damp and cold. Wren tightened her grip on the tiny lantern as they climbed, its flickering light barely carving through the suffocating dark.
“Almost there,” Wren said, breath uneven. “I can smell the outside.”
Sassy nodded, though her throat felt tight. Each step forward was a battle between hope and terror. Jimmy’s voice still echoed in her skull—calling her name, shouting at her to run, fighting as they dragged him away.
Hold on, Jimmy, she whispered to herself. I’m coming back for you.
The passage narrowed one last time, then abruptly widened into a circular stone chamber. Above them, a rusted grate let thin shafts of moonlight spill onto the floor.
Wren lowered the lantern and looked up. “This is it.”
Sassy examined the grate. It was bolted into the old stone, but corrosion had weakened the hinges. She reached up, grabbed the metal bars, and pulled.
Nothing.
She tried again, bracing her foot against the wall, using her entire body weight. The metal reverberated.
Wren stepped beside her. “Together.”
They pulled—shoulders shaking, muscles burning—until the hinges shrieked and snapped. The grate swung loose, falling outward with a heavy clang.
Fresh night air rushed in.
Sassy nearly cried from the cold sweetness of it.
Wren extinguished the lantern and shoved it into her pocket. “Go. Before anyone hears.”
Sassy hoisted herself up through the opening and rolled onto soft grass. She blinked into the moonlit night.
They were in the woods—dense, wild, familiar in a way that made her chest ache.
Wren climbed out after her, collapsing onto her back and inhaling deeply. “Sky,” she said, awestruck. “I forgot what real sky looked like.”
Sassy pushed herself to her knees. She could still hear faint echoes from underground—chanting, footsteps, the clatter of movement. The Garden was still searching. And Jimmy was still below. Trapped. Alone.
Her hands curled into fists.
“We need help,” she said, voice hoarse.
Wren looked at her, wary. “Help from who? Your mother? That’s who they used to lure you.”
Sassy shook her head fiercely. “Not her. Someone who has guns, land, and zero patience for cult bullshit.”
Wren blinked. “Who?”
“Benji Fallon.”
Wren stared as if Sassy had spoken another language. “The Fallon boy? The one you said bullied you?”
“He’s not gentle,” Sassy admitted. “And Jimmy hates him. But he’s loyal. Brutal when he needs to be. And he doesn’t answer to anyone.” Her voice wavered as she rose to her feet. “He’s the only person left who can help me get Jimmy back.”
Wren hesitated. “Will he help you? After everything?”
Sassy thought of the moment weeks ago—Benji lifting her off the shower floor, his arms steady, his rage at seeing her broken, his voice trembling as he promised, I won’t let anything happen to you.
And she nodded.
“Yes. He’ll help.”
Wren pushed herself upright. “Then we’d better move fast. The Garden will come aboveground now that they know you escaped.”
Sassy scanned the woods. She recognized the hill line. The slope of the trees. The faint glow of a distant farmhouse light.
“We’re a few miles from Fallon land,” she said quietly. “We can cut through the east ridge and follow the creek. It’ll take us right to his property.”
Wren frowned. “What if he’s not alone? What if his family is there?”
“Even better,” Sassy said. “I need guns. Trucks. Men who aren’t afraid to break the law if it means protecting their own.”
But beneath her determination sat a deeper truth:
She didn’t trust many people.
Her world had been manipulated, rewritten, stolen.
But Benji Fallon—
rough edges, bad temper, fierce loyalty—
was the one person who had never asked anything of her.
Never tried to own her.
Never believed in the Garden.
He was dangerous. But he was their kind of dangerous. And she needed dangerous right now.
Sassy started down the hill, Wren limping behind her. Branches snapped beneath their feet. The forest seemed to carry their urgency forward.
“Why him?” Wren asked quietly. “Why trust him?”
Sassy swallowed. “Because Jimmy would die before asking him. Because Benji hates violators more than he hates Jimmy. And because…”
She paused, her chest tightening.
“Because once, when I was falling apart, he held me like he’d been waiting his whole life for me to need him.”
Wren’s eyes softened. “Jealousy?”
“No,” Sassy said. “Protection. Real protection. Not the Garden’s.”
As the first pale hints of dawn crept over the horizon, she could see the top of the Fallon barn silhouetted against the sky. Relief washed over her so hard she stumbled.
Wren caught her arm. “You good?”
“No,” Sassy said. “But I’m not stopping.”
They moved through the tall grass, across the old fence line, up the gravel path. When they reached the porch of the Fallon farmhouse, Sassy didn’t knock. She pounded.
Hard.
Reckless.
Desperate.
A light flicked on inside. A shadow approached.
Wren tensed, stepping behind Sassy as the door swung open.
Benji stood there—shirtless, boots unlaced, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. But his eyes sharpened instantly when he saw her.
“Sassy?”
Her voice cracked.
“Benji… I need you.”
The hardness in his face melted into something fierce and immediate.
“As long as I’m standing,” he said, stepping aside, “you’ll have me.”
30
The moon was their compass. Sassy followed it like a lifeline, its silver glow threading through the treetops as she and Wren crossed fields, waded creek beds, and climbed ragged hills. Every muscle in her body screamed but stopping wasn’t an option. Not with Jimmy’s voice echoing behind her. Not with the Garden somewhere in the dark.
But the night—
despite the terror—
was beautiful.
The world breathed around her gently, as if unaware of the cruelty hiding beneath its soil.
Crickets hummed.
Wind rustled through tall grass.
Branches swayed to a rhythm older than the Garden’s doctrines.
The moon lit the dew on the leaves like scattered glass.
Wren stumbled beside her, thinner and more fragile under the open sky, the lantern extinguished and useless. But she kept moving, kept following Sassy’s determined stride.
“How far?” Wren said, breath ragged.
“Another ridge,” Sassy said while plotting their path. “Then the fields. Then Fallon land.”
“You’ve walked this before.”
Sassy nodded. “When Jimmy and I were kids. We’d cut across here to get to the creek. Pretend we were explorers. Warriors. Anything but… normal.”
Wren studied her. “Maybe that was the real you. Before the Garden tried to make you something else.”
Sassy didn’t answer.
The truth was too complicated.
Too painful.
Her childhood had been split—
half joy with Jimmy,
half terror she didn’t understand.
They reached the top of a hill and paused.
Below them stretched a valley of wildflowers—pale gold in the moonlight. Night air swept over the field, carrying the scent of soil and clover. Sassy inhaled deeply, letting the earth ground her.
“This is beautiful,” Wren said in awe. Taking in all her surroundings.
“It saved me once,” Sassy said softly. “When I was little, I used to run through this field when Mom got… strange. When she’d stare out the window muttering things I didn’t understand. I’d come out here because the world made sense.”
“And does it now?” Wren asked.
Sassy’s throat tightened. “No. But I know where I belong right now.”
She stepped into the field, letting the tall grass brush her palms. The moon turned her hair pale gold, her shadow long and steady ahead of her. Every step carried equal parts pain and purpose.
Wren followed slowly, marveling. “This place… it’s nothing like the tunnels.”
“Nothing is,” Sassy said. “This is what the Garden pretended to give people—light, nature, purpose. But all they were ever offering was darkness.”
Wren’s voice cracked. “You’re not going back alone, you know.”
Sassy turned to her. “I know. I don’t want you to.”
Wren looked stunned. “After everything I told you—after what they made me—why would you trust me?”
Sassy continued walking, answering without looking back.
“Because the Garden forgot something. They taught obedience, fear, ritual. But they never taught loyalty. Or love. Or choice.”
She paused. “And you chose to run with me.”
Silence. Then Wren whispered, “Thank you.”
They reached the far end of the field. The land rose again into a slope dotted with old trees. Sassy’s legs trembled as she climbed, using her hands to steady herself on roots and branches.
The woods thinned. At the crest of the hill, she stopped. Wren caught up beside her. And together, they looked down into the valley where Benji Fallon’s land stretched wide under the moon.
The barn—a familiar silhouette—stood tall and silent, its weathered wood gleaming silver. The farmhouse glowed faintly, lantern light flickering in a single window.
Sassy’s calmed down. She felt something she hadn’t felt in hours. Safety. And shamefully—hope. But also fear.
Because Jimmy wasn’t beside her.
Because she’d have to tell Benji what happened.
Because she’d have to ask him to risk his family, his land, his life for a man he’d always hated.
Wren touched her shoulder gently. “Ready?”
“No,” Sassy said. “But I’m going anyway.”
They descended the hill.
The grass turned to gravel beneath their shoes. The porch lights flickered on in response to the motion. Dogs began barking in the distance. A wind chime clanged softly.
The world felt so alive—
so painfully normal—
that Sassy nearly sobbed.
By the time they reached the porch, her legs were shaking from exhaustion and adrenaline. Tears stung her eyes as she lifted her hand to knock.
But she didn’t have to.
The door opened before she touched it.
Benji stood there barefoot, shirt rumpled, hair messy, eyes sharp in a way that made Sassy’s knees go weak.
His gaze moved from her tear-stained face to her scraped arms to Wren trembling behind her.
“Sassy,” he said.
She opened her mouth.
No words came.
So, she simply said—
“I need help.”
Benji’s jaw tightened. Not in anger, but in unspoken loyalty. He stepped closer, lifting her chin gently with a single finger.
“You got it,” he said. “Whatever it is. You got me.”
Sassy exhaled a sob and collapsed into his arms. Wren stood awkwardly on the porch, wary, waiting. Benji looked up at her over Sassy’s shoulder, expression turning cold and calculating.
“You her friend?”
Wren swallowed. “No. But I’m helping her.”
Benji nodded once. “Then you’re safe here.”
He lifted Sassy effortlessly. One arm beneath her knees, one supporting her back—and carried her inside, the way you carry something precious.
Sassy buried her face against his chest as the door closed behind them. For the first time since Jimmy was taken she didn’t feel alone.