You can’t think. You can’t breathe. You just run.

The cold air cuts into your lungs, sharp and unforgiving, but you push forward. Every step sends fresh pain shooting through your legs, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

Behind you, the distant wail of sirens and the harsh barking of dogs grows fainter—but not faint enough. They’re still looking for you. Hunting you. If they find you, they’ll drag you back to Thurmond. And this time, they’ll make sure you never try to escape again.

A black van sits abandoned just off the road ahead, barely visible through the trees. It’s unlocked. The back door is open just enough for you to slip inside. It smells like gasoline, old leather, and something faintly sweet. The seats are worn, blankets shoved in the back, a few half-empty bags of snacks lying around.

Someone lives in this van.

Your heart pounds as you curl up beneath the blankets, pulling them over yourself as you fight to stay silent. Your body aches. Your hands shake. But you keep still, forcing yourself to breathe as quietly as possible.

Minutes pass. Maybe hours. Then—

Footsteps. Voices. Laughter.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to disappear as the van door suddenly swings open.

“I’m telling you, we are NOT stopping for another snack run, Liam!” a voice says, sharp and annoyed.

“Oh, come on, Chubs, I saw a gas station back there—”

“And I saw a pack of PSFs twenty minutes ago! Maybe we DON’T make unnecessary stops?”

A light giggle follows. A girl. Soft, quiet.

Then someone climbs inside. You hear the rustling of clothes, the creak of the seats as they drop onto them. Your heartbeat is so loud you’re sure they can hear it.

Then—

Silence.

A beat.

Then—

“Uh… guys?”

A pause.

“Why is there someone in our van?”

Your breath catches in your throat as the blankets are yanked back. You meet a pair of startled blue eyes.

"Who are you?!"