Surviving the Storm

Chapter 6

Storm

I woke with a heavy ache in my chest.

For a few seconds, I lay perfectly still, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince myself that the feeling would disappear.

It didn’t.

Then I remembered.

Today was my last day with Kat.

Tears burned behind my eyes.

Tomorrow, I would be gone.

Not visiting another town.

Not going away for a few weeks.

Gone.

I would be leaving my pack, my family, my home—and my best friend—behind.

My chest tightened at the thought.

I was going to miss Kat more than I could put into words.

But I had no choice.

If I stayed, I might not survive.

Leaving wasn’t selfish.

It was necessary.

My survival depended on getting as far away from this place as humanly possible.

And tomorrow, I would finally be free.

At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

Today, though, I still had one last thing to do.

Lunch with Kat.

For her, it would be just another lunch.

We met at the same café almost every week. We’d sit for hours, gossiping, laughing and talking about anything and everything.

But today wasn’t a normal lunch.

Today was goodbye.

And she couldn’t know.

I couldn’t risk her knowing.

Because if Kat knew I was leaving, there was a chance someone else would find out.

And if Mason discovered what Logan and I had planned before I was safely out of the country…

I didn’t want to think about what would happen.

I forced myself out of bed.

I had promised Logan I’d spend the morning packing.

And there was a lot to do.

My entire future had been reduced to whatever I could fit into a few suitcases.

Logan had spent weeks making sure I could disappear.

One of his old school friends had a side business creating fake documents. Normally, I wouldn’t have trusted something like that.

But Logan did.

And the man’s work was apparently flawless.

He’d created everything I needed for my new identity.

New identification.

New documents.

New school transcripts.

Even the paperwork I needed to get into university.

There was just one problem.

A fake identity didn’t automatically get you accepted into university.

Money did.

Logan had arranged a substantial donation to the university in exchange for them accepting my application and securing me a place in the course I wanted.

A place in the dormitory, too.

It still seemed surreal.

In a few days, I would be a university student in Ireland.

I would have a new name.

A new life.

And no one would know who I really was.

Logan had even gone one step further.

He’d opened two bank accounts in my new identity.

My money had been transferred from my existing accounts into his account and then moved into the new ones.

It meant I would still have access to my money without leaving behind a trail Mason could follow.

Because if there was one thing we knew about my brother, it was that he’d leave no stone unturned if he wanted to find me.

Logan suspected Mason would eventually try to track my movements through my bank accounts.

That was why the new accounts were with a bank that didn’t have a branch anywhere near our hometown.

We’d even travelled three hours away to open them.

It might have sounded excessive to anyone else.

To us, it was survival.

People from our pack worked everywhere in town.

Banks.

Businesses.

Government offices.

If Mason wanted information, all he would have to do was ask the right person.

We couldn’t take that chance.

Nothing could be done locally.

Not even opening a bank account.

I stood in the middle of my bedroom and looked around.

This room had been mine for years.

Soon, it would belong to someone else.

The thought made my stomach twist.

I pushed it aside.

I didn’t have time to get emotional.

I needed to pack.

I showered, dressed and started filling the first suitcase.

Clothes.

Jeans.

Long-sleeved shirts.

Workout gear.

Yoga pants.

T-shirts.

Sweatpants.

Hoodies.

Jackets.

Scarves.

Beanies.

Anything I might need for the colder Irish weather.

When the first suitcase was full, I started on the second.

Then the third.

That one was different.

It contained the things I couldn’t replace.

Photo albums.

Personal documents.

Memories.

Pieces of my old life.

I tucked my real identification documents beneath the lining of the suitcase where no one would think to look.

Then came my makeup, my favourite leather belts and the jewellery my mother had left me.

I paused when I held her jewellery in my hands.

For a moment, I could almost hear her voice.

I swallowed hard.

“Mum…”

I quickly blinked away the tears.

I couldn’t break down.

Not today.

I carefully packed the jewellery away.

Then came my electronics.

My digital clock and radio.

Two laptops.

My iPad.

My iPod.

Chargers.

Flash drives.

Portable hard drives.

Everything I couldn’t afford to lose.

I packed my journals next.

Years of thoughts, secrets and feelings I’d never been brave enough to say aloud.

Those journals contained pieces of me that nobody else had ever seen.

I couldn’t leave them behind.

I added four of my favourite baseball caps, toiletries, towels and the electrical adaptors Logan had bought for me.

Ireland used different plugs to the ones we used here in the States.

It was strange.

I was packing adaptors for a country I’d never even visited.

That was when the reality hit me again.

I was actually doing this.

I was leaving.

For good.

I grabbed my Nike backpack and placed my university stationery on top of the third suitcase.

My hands trembled slightly.

University.

Music.

Ireland.

Freedom.

A life of my own.

The words sounded almost too good to be true.

Then I opened the fourth suitcase.

My music.

This one mattered more than all the others.

Music books.

Software.

Leads.

Accessories.

Everything I needed for my instruments.

I added my favourite novels before closing it.

Then I turned towards the instruments sitting in my room.

My Roland digital stage piano.

My acoustic guitar.

My violin.

These weren’t just possessions.

They were pieces of me.

My mother had given me some of them.

Logan had helped me with others.

And music had been the one thing that had always belonged entirely to me.

I couldn’t leave any of it behind.

When everything was finally packed, I pushed the four suitcases into my walk-in wardrobe and carefully stored my instruments beside them.

For a moment, I simply stared at them.

Four suitcases.

Three instruments.

An entire life reduced to luggage.

The plan was simple.

Logan would load everything into the SUV along with his own belongings.

Everyone already knew he was leaving, so nobody would question him taking luggage downstairs.

The instruments worried me.

They were impossible to hide.

If Mason saw Logan carrying my keyboard, guitar and violin out of the house…

Our entire plan could fall apart.

And if we were caught before we escaped?

Mason wouldn’t just stop me from leaving.

He’d kill us.

I knew it.

Logan knew it.

That was why I’d spent months pretending nothing was happening.

Why I’d kept my mouth shut.

Why I had smiled and acted like everything was normal.

My freedom depended on everyone believing the lie.

I stepped out of the wardrobe and glanced at the clock.

My heart jumped.

Lunch.

I was going to be late.

I grabbed my phone and quickly texted Logan.

Finished packing. Everything is in my wardrobe. Four suitcases and my instruments. I’m leaving for lunch with Kat now.

His reply came only moments later.

Got it. I’ll load everything into the SUV.

I stared at his message.

That was it.

The moment we’d been planning for was almost here.

I slipped my phone into my pocket and took one last look around my bedroom.

Tomorrow, none of this would be mine.

I wouldn’t sleep in this bed.

I wouldn’t wake up here.

I wouldn’t have to listen for footsteps outside my door.

I wouldn’t have to wonder if Mason was coming for me.

I wouldn’t have to live in fear.

Tomorrow, I would be somewhere else.

Somewhere Mason couldn’t reach me.

Somewhere I could finally start living.

But first…

I had to say goodbye to the one person who had no idea she was about to lose me.

Kat was waiting for me.

And I had to pretend this was just another ordinary lunch.

When, in reality, it would be our last.