CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The morning sun beats down on the scorched earth as I follow Gina to the communal kitchen. My hands are stiff, my eyes heavy with sleeplessness. Jake's absence hangs over the pack like a dark cloud, and the tension crackles in the air, nearly tangible.
"Chop these," Gina says, handing me a bundle of peppers. The knife feels cool against my palm, the vegetables crisp and fresh—a stark contrast to the dry desert around us.
"Think he's gone for good?" she asks, her voice low, as if afraid to stir the ghosts of the night.
I slice through a pepper, its insides bursting with color, much like how Jake burst into our lives—vibrant, unpredictable. "Maybe. Jake's always been a wild card."
Gina nods, her expression pensive as she stirs a pot over the stove. We work in silence,
