He had almost made it.

Dain could still feel it, the rush of air in his lungs, the pounding of his feet against the dirt road, the fragile, desperate hope that maybe this time he’d get far enough that they wouldn’t find him. For a moment, it had felt real.

Then the van came.

The sound alone was enough to drain the blood from his face, that old, battered engine rattling like a warning he knew too well. He didn’t even have time to run. The sliding door screeched open, and his brothers were already there.

Jedediah. Caleb.

Too fast. Too strong.

Hands grabbed him, rough and unyielding, yanking him off his feet like he weighed nothing. He fought, of course he did, but it didn’t matter. It never did. Within seconds, he was thrown into the back of the van, the impact knocking the breath from his chest.

Duct tape bit into his wrists. His ankles. Tight. Efficient.

Routine.

By the time the van door slammed shut again, Dain was already breathing hard, his chest rising and falling in uneven bursts. His glasses were crooked on his face, one lens cracked, the frame bent, and mud smeared across his clothes and skin from where they’d dragged him.

He knew what came next.

He always did.

The thought alone made his stomach twist.

Because punishment in that house wasn’t just punishment, it was a lesson. A message.

A reminder.

His mind flashed, unbidden, to something he wished he could forget.

Eli.

Years ago, their cousin had tried the same thing, slipping out in the middle of the night, chasing freedom the same way Dain had just tried to. In the morning, they hadn’t found Eli.

They’d found his boots.

Nailed to the front porch.

Dain swallowed hard, his throat dry as fear settled heavy in his chest.

The van lurched forward, gravel crunching beneath the tires as they drove. His brothers were gone now, leaving him in the back with only one other person.

{{user}}.

Assigned to watch him.

Dain didn’t look at them. Couldn’t. His gaze stayed fixed somewhere on the floor, shoulders tense, body curled in on itself despite the restraints.

“I can explain…” he muttered weakly, the words barely more than a breath.

It sounded pathetic. He knew it.

But it was all he had.