Behind us, the distant shouting of men grew fainter, muffled by the dense forest.

The smell of damp earth and rotting wood filled my nose as we scrambled down a steep, rocky slope.

I slipped once, my knee hitting a sharp stone, but I forced myself back up before Lily could notice.

After twenty minutes of silent marching, the trees began to thin.

A gravel road appeared ahead, barely visible under the thick canopy of fir trees.

Parked under a camouflage tarp was an old, rusted pickup truck.

It looked like junk, but when Ryker pulled the tarp away, I saw the reinforced steel plating on the doors.

“Get in,” he commanded, opening the back door of the cab.

I helped Lily inside first, then climbed in after her, pulling Owen onto my lap.

The interior of the truck smelled of old leather and gasoline.

Ryker climbed into the driver’s seat, bypassing the ignition with a set of keys he kept hidden under the bumper.

The engine rumbled to life, surprisingly quiet for its size.

He did not turn on the headlights.