Chapter 4 (Katrina)
976 Words
I’m outside.
Barefoot. Bat in hand. Blood on my sleeve.
The wind bites, but I don’t feel it. Not really.
The porch light flickers behind me. Liam’s body is still inside—breathing, barely. I didn’t kill him. Not yet.
I should’ve.
I stare at the door like it’s daring me. Like it knows I’m not done.
He’ll wake up. He’ll crawl. He’ll call Boris.
Unless I go back in and finish it.
I tighten my grip on the bat. My fingers ache. My heart doesn’t.
I could do it. I could end this. No more running. No more hiding.
Headlights flash down the road. I freeze.
A car pulls up—dark, quiet, deliberate. The driver steps out fast, no hesitation.
Sarah.
She’s dressed like someone who doesn’t want to be remembered. Hoodie. Gloves. Eyes sharp.
She sees the bat. The blood. Me.
“No,” she says, voice low but firm. “Not like this.”
I don’t move.
“He deserves it,” I whisper.
“I know,” she says. “But Boris is on his way. You don’t have time.”
I blink. “He knows?”
She nods. “Liam called him before he passed out. Slurred something about you acting strange.”
Of course he did. Even drunk, he’s poison.
Sarah steps closer. “You want out? You want to live? Then drop the bat and get in the car.”
I hesitate.
She softens. Just a little. “You already won, Kat. You got out. Don’t let him pull you back in.”
I look at the house one last time.
Then I drop the bat.
And I run.
The car smells like leather and secrets.
Sarah drives fast, eyes locked on the road, hands steady. She hasn’t said much. Just handed me a hoodie, told me to duck low, and hit the gas.
I’m still shaking. Not from fear. From the weight of what I did. What I didn’t do.
“I should’ve finished it,” I whisper.
Sarah doesn’t look at me. “You did enough.”
The silence stretches. I watch the trees blur past, each one a witness to my escape.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Next town over,” she says. “Bus station. You’re getting on the 3:15 to Jasper.”
I blink. “Jasper?”
She nods. “It’s quiet. Off-grid. No one from Liam’s world goes there unless they’re invited.”
“Why Jasper?”
Sarah finally glances at me. Her eyes are sharp, but kind. “Because that’s where L.O.V. is.”
I frown. “The group you mentioned once? The one that helps—”
“Women like you,” she finishes. “Survivors. Fighters. People who need more than just a place to hide.”
I swallow hard. “You trust them?”
“I do,” she says. “They’ll protect you. Get you back on your feet. And when the time’s right, they’ll help you find your family.”
My throat tightens. “You think they’ll want me back?”
Sarah doesn’t hesitate. “They never stopped.”
I look out the window. The stars are faint, but they’re there. Like breadcrumbs.
“Jasper,” I whisper. “Okay.”
Sarah reaches into the glove box and pulls out a small envelope. “Bus ticket. Cash. New ID. You’re Kathryn Kyle now.”
I take it with trembling hands.
“You’re not running anymore,” she says. “You’re returning.”
And for the first time in years, I believe her.
Let’s shift into Sarah’s POV—sharp, strategic, and emotionally guarded. She’s just gotten Kat onto the bus, adrenaline still high, but now the real work begins. Calling Wolf means activating the next phase of protection, and her tone should reflect both relief and urgency. Wolf, as the President of the Lords of Valhalla, is the kind of man who doesn’t flinch—but even he knows Kat’s arrival changes everything.
Sarah’s POV
The bus pulled out at 3:17.
Two minutes late. Enough to make my pulse spike.
I watched it disappear down the highway, taillights blinking like a heartbeat. Kat was on it. Hoodie up. Head down. New name. New life.
She didn’t look back.
Good.
I stepped into the alley behind the station, pulled out the burner, and dialed the number I only use when things go sideways.
It rang once.
Twice.
Then: “Yeah.”
His voice was gravel and steel.
“Wolf,” I said.
“Talk.”
“She’s on the bus. Jasper. ETA six hours.”
Silence.
“She okay?” he asked.
“She’s alive,” I said. “Shaken. But she swung the bat herself.”
That got him. I could hear it in the way he exhaled—slow, deliberate.
“She still Kat?”
“She’s Kathryn Kyle now. Cover’s clean. No tail. Liam’s breathing, but barely.”
“Boris?”
“On his way to the house. We’re ahead of him, but not by much.”
Wolf grunted. “He’ll burn the place down looking for her.”
“I know.”
“You sure she’s ready?”
“She doesn’t think she is,” I said. “But she didn’t flinch. Not once.”
Another pause.
Then: “L.O.V. knows she’s coming?”
“They’re prepped. She’ll be met at the station. No patch, no questions. Just safety.”
“Good,” he said. “She’s family. We protect our own.”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “She’s going to need time.”
“She’ll have it,” Wolf said. “And when she’s ready, we’ll be there.”
I hung up before the emotion cracked through.
Because this wasn’t over.
But for the first time in years, Kat was on her way home.
- Writer
