Chapter 3 -

  Rod didn’t let go of Colin’s arm until they were well clear of the bus.

  “Hey. Hey, eyes up,” he said, gripping tighter when Colin stumbled. “We gotta move.”

  Colin tried to answer. The words wouldn’t line up. His throat felt raw, like he’d been screaming for hours instead of seconds. His hands shook so badly he couldn’t make them stop. Somewhere behind him, something burned. Somewhere else, someone screamed.

  “I… I killed him,” he managed.

  Rod swore under his breath, not in anger, more like frustration at the world itself. He glanced back once, just long enough to see the hooded attackers hesitating now, unsure after what they’d witnessed. Their leader was shouting, waving them forward, but the moment had broken.

  Rod turned Colin by the shoulders, forcing him to focus.

  “My name’s Rod,” he said firmly. “And you just saved my life. I don’t care what world we’re in- if you hadn’t moved, I’d be dead. But right now? We don’t get to stop.”

  He bent, scooped up a short sword from the ground, and pressed it into Colin’s free hand before Colin even realized what was happening.

  “Forest,” Rod said. “That’s where your sister went. That’s where we’re going.”

  Another shout rang out behind them. Arrows thunked into the dirt nearby, close enough that Colin felt the impact through his shoes. Heat flashed to their right—fire, blooming low and violent.

  “Move!” Rod snapped, yanking him forward.

  They ran.

  Not cleanly. Not fast at first. Colin’s legs felt disconnected, like they belonged to someone else. His breath came in sharp, uneven pulls. Every step jolted something loose in his chest, something he didn’t want to feel yet.

  But he ran.

  Because stopping meant thinking.

  Because stopping meant looking back.

  Because stopping meant someone might die.

  ***

  Coleen didn’t look back.

  She couldn’t.

  If she let herself check whether Colin was still on his feet, still alive, the fragile line holding her together would snap. So she kept her eyes forward and her legs moving, voice steady even as her chest burned.

  “Come on,” she called over her shoulder. “Not far now!”

  The words were reassurance, not certainty. She didn’t know if the forest would help them. She only knew standing still out in the open would kill them.

  Someone ahead stumbled, breath hitching into something close to a sob. A woman wearing glasses attached to a small string caught her elbow without slowing, voice low and steady as she urged her forward, keeping pace until the panic loosened its grip enough for her to run again.

  The small group strung out behind her, Kevin and Shelby close, Paul stumbling but keeping pace, and others following her because they didn’t know what else to do. Jeff and the rest had already split off toward the houses. That choice was done. She couldn’t carry it with her.

  One more hill rose ahead. Just one.

  Coleen tightened her grip on her backpack strap and racket case, pulling them closer to her body as she pushed harder up the slope. If they reached the trees, the open ground would stop working against them. Cover mattered. Space mattered.

  She crested the hill, and skidded to a halt.

  Two hooded figures stood waiting on the other side.

  Not surprised.

  Not rushing.

  Waiting.

  Her breath caught. They must have broken off early, circled wide, cut ahead. The realization hit cold and sharp: They were hunting us.

  “You’re coming with us, girly,” one of them said, stepping forward as he drew a dagger from his belt.

  Coleen didn’t answer.

  She set her feet.

  She’d sparred with Colin. With Grandpa Dan. She knew how to move, how to balance, how to strike, but this wasn’t practice. Her hands trembled despite her effort to steady them.

  This man wanted to hurt her.

  Worse, he was between her and the people behind her.

  The man smiled as he came closer, eyes crawling over her like she was already something owned. He licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak-

  -and froze.

  A blade burst from his back.

  The dagger punched through his chest, red and sudden. The man gasped once, wet and shocked, and collapsed at her feet.

  For a heartbeat, the world stalled.

  The second attacker stood behind him, blade slick as he yanked it free and wiped it clean on his fallen companion’s cloak.

  Coleen’s stomach dropped.

  She’d never seen anyone die like that. Not this close. Not like it was nothing.

  These people weren’t threatening anymore.

  They were killing.

  Her body moved before her thoughts caught up.

  She lunged forward, planted her foot, twisted, and drove a spinning kick toward the remaining attacker’s head. He blocked, but the impact still knocked him off his feet, slamming him hard into the dirt.

  By then, the others had reached the hilltop. She heard gasps, sharp intakes of breath behind her.

  The hooded man scrambled up quickly, but didn’t attack.

  Instead, he dropped low and raised one hand, palm open.

  “I won’t harm you,” he said quickly. “I’m on your side!”

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  Coleen didn’t lower her stance.

  “What are you talking about?” she demanded. “What is going on?”

  The man tugged down his hood, revealing a young face, hard-eyed, exhausted.

  “My name is Mikel,” he said. “I swear I’m on your side. These men were sent to capture you. If they couldn’t… they were ordered to kill you.”

  The words slid too easily into place.

  She glanced back at the group, fear, confusion, trust balanced on nothing. Then she looked at Mikel again.

  “We were already heading for the forest,” she said. “You’re coming with us. And you’re explaining everything.”

  She turned just as Colin and the burly man reached them.

  Relief flickered through her, sharp and brief, but she didn’t let it slow her.

  “Everyone, move!” she called. “We’re almost there. This is Mikel, he’s helping us. Go!”

  She shoved Mikel forward and they broke into a run, not waiting to see if everyone followed.

  They did.

  ***

  The trees rushed up to meet them.

  The group had shrunk without anyone saying it out loud. The broad-shouldered man moved among them, redistributing packs without comment, while the woman with the pulled-back ponytail ran beside one of the injured, hands steady, voice low.

  A few others hovered close, unsure where they were going. The older woman kept her head turning, watching everything with a careful, measured calm, as if panic were something she’d decided not to indulge.

  They didn’t stop running until the trees finally swallowed them whole.

  Branches slapped at their arms. Roots snagged their feet. The open grass vanished behind a wall of trunks thick enough to break sightlines and sound alike. Coleen forced them deeper anyway, weaving between the largest trees she could find before finally lifting a hand.

  As they moved, the restless boy in running shoes kept drifting ahead, then doubling back, unable to stay still. Behind him, the quiet guy with grease-dark smudges on his fingers walked last, eyes down, like he was counting steps instead of trees.

  “Here,” she said. “Behind the trunks. Let's break. Stay low.”

  They collapsed where they stood.

  Breath came hard and loud in the sudden quiet. Someone gagged. Someone else sank to their knees, hands pressed to the ground like it was the only thing keeping them upright. Someone else vomited into the underbrush.

  “Sit. Don’t move,” the young woman from the bus said as she crouched beside a man clutching his side. She worked quickly, checking the wound and pressing cloth into place with practiced efficiency, already reaching for another strip without looking up.

  Colin leaned briefly against a trunk when Rod let go of him. His knees threatened to fold. He stared at his hands like they didn’t belong to him anymore.

  Blood.

  Not his.

  Rod stood beside him, sword lowered but ready, scanning the forest like he expected something else to come charging out at any second.

  “You good?” Rod asked quietly.

  Colin swallowed. His stomach twisted. He shook his head once, then nodded, because he didn’t know which answer was more dangerous.

  “I didn’t want to,” he said.

  Rod’s jaw tightened. “I know.”

  Colin forced himself upright.

  They weren’t safe.

  Not yet.

  And somehow, worse than the fear, worse than the nausea, something cold and fragile had settled into place inside him.

  He hadn’t moved because he was brave.

  He’d moved because someone was about to die.

  That understanding stayed with him as they followed the others deeper into the trees, quiet and heavy, like the first stone laid in a foundation he didn’t want, but would need.

  Coleen counted automatically.

  Her. Colin. Mikel. Kevin and Shelby. Rod. And eight others.

  Too few.

  She didn’t let herself look back toward the plain.

  “Don’t spread out,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Stay where the trees are thick.”

  Nearby, a woman sank down against a tree, fingers knotted together as she stared at nothing in particular, lips moving in a silent rhythm only she seemed to hear.

  Only once everyone had settled did she turn to Mikel.

  “What’s going on?” The words came fast, piled on top of each other. “Where are we? Who were those people? Where can we go to get help?”

  Mikel hesitated, just a fraction too long.

  “You were summoned,” he said carefully. “From your world. This is the land of Noton.”

  Coleen stared at him.

  “What?”

  He took a breath. “The Demon Lord’s forces are moving. Taking territory. I believe they had a hand in pulling you here. The Resistance learned about it too late. I came to intercept if I could, but-”

  The brush to their left rustled.

  Mikel was on his feet instantly, dagger in hand, body angled toward the sound.

  “We’re not alone,” he said.

  The undergrowth parted.

  Two shapes emerged between the trees, low, broad, and wrong in their size. Fur matted and dark, shoulders rolling with muscle meant for pulling prey down. Long jaws dripped saliva onto the forest floor, and their eyes, yellow, fixed, hungry, never left the huddled group.

  Someone whimpered.

  The wolves took another step forward.

  And the forest went very, very quiet.