Well, Iamstill having to watch my back.
But I’ll take the U.S. Marshals any day over a bunch of hotheaded inmates with nothing to lose.
I press my palm a little tighter to the bark for one more deep breath, and then keep moving. I don’t stop until I make it to my stash, which consists of a sleeping bag and a backpack, neither of which I walked out of North Willard Penitentiary with. They were procured along the way, and now, they’re all I have.
My hands wrap around the strap of the backpack, and I sling it up and over my shoulder, bothered by how light it feels. I’ll have to do something for food soon, and the thought alone sends my stomach growling.
It’s a dilemma I’m certain Rue has never fucking faced with her fancy little car and designer clothes. I don’t know what the hell she did when they loaded me up and hauled me away, but whatever it was, it obviously was profitable.
Or maybe Matthew’s family is taking care of her.
I can barely stomach the thought of that. I can barely stomach the thought of anything when it comes to Rue Iverson. I just damn sure didn’t think she’d stick around this putrid town.
But here she is.
And I’m not sure she ever left.
My boots are quiet as I move through the trees, but the pounding in the side of my head is anything but. My head swirls with a life I once lived here, in these woods. And yet, I don’twantto think about Rue.
But she was the best thing about this place.
My eyes flicker through the tree trunks and brush, catching sight of the lake below. The sound of a motorboat bellows through the silence in the trees, and I freeze. There’s a bluff between myself and the waters, but I need to lay low until I get my bearings.
I take a hard left and slip into thicker brush. It cuts at the state-issued denim that I still haven’t managed to find a replacement for. I wince but ignore it for the most part. Pain is part of living—though, if something doesn’t start going my way I might just find a good rope and strong oak tree.
My fists curl at my sides as the familiar ache starts in my chest. I don’t know how to outrun the feeling of dread, as if my life is just a waste of space.
Not a soul gives a shit about me.
And that sets off the painful spiral of memory. My family and my Club abandoned me the moment the guilty verdict was read.
Not a single fucking visit. Not a phone call. Not a letter.
Well, unless you include the letters sent by Matthew’s family, filled with daunting prose and praying my soul be redeemed for the heinous crime I committed.
But I threw those in the trash.
They were sending them to the wrong person.
And with every step I take, deeper into the uncharted woods, my mind goes over all the letters I sent to Rue. I didn’t beg her to take the rightful blame. I just begged her to not fucking abandon me for taking the fall.
And as much as I thought I could let it go…
I’m not sure I can.
I knew the universe was doing me a solid when I got out of there, and now, I don’t think it’s a coincidence Rue was the first person I saw when I made it here.
Karma is a bitch.
And it’scomingfor Rue Iverson.
3
RUE
“Are you not going to eat?”Mom snips at me from across the kitchen table, still piled up with unopened mail and random shit. “You haven’t taken a single bite.”
I rip my eyes from Bullet still sitting at the front window staring out into the trees. “I’m just not that hungry.”
