The cabin loomed ahead, its wooden walls worn and rotting. A single lantern flickered inside, casting weak light through the cracks.  
Evelyn pressed her back against the door, signaling for Eli and Sarah to take position. Claire lingered behind, her expression unreadable.  
Eli tried the handle. Locked.  
He stepped back, raising his rifle to smash the lock, but Claire grabbed his arm. “Wait. There’s a key.”  
Evelyn turned to her. “Where?”  
Claire hesitated, then moved toward one of the slavers’ bodies. She crouched, patting down Scarface’s jacket until she found a small iron key. Without a word, she tossed it to Evelyn.  
Eli muttered, “Convenient.”  
Claire met his gaze, her voice low. “I was one of them. I know how they worked.”  
Evelyn ignored the tension and slipped the key into the lock. The door creaked open. The air inside was thick, damp, and filled with the faint scent of rot.  
A soft shuffle came from the shadows. Then, a weak voice. “Who’s there?”  
Evelyn stepped inside, her heart pounding. Against the far wall, several figures huddled together, thin, bruised, their wrists bound in chains.  
A young boy, no older than ten, stared at her with wide, hollow eyes. Beside him, an older man held onto a woman whose face was swollen from a fresh wound.  
Claire exhaled sharply. “They’re still alive.”  
Sarah moved quickly, cutting through the ropes while Eli stood guard by the door.  
The woman flinched as Claire approached. “You…” her voice trembled. “You worked for them.”  
Claire stopped, her fingers curling into fists. “Not anymore.”  
The older man studied her for a long moment, then turned to Evelyn. “Are you taking us with you?”  
Evelyn nodded. “If you can walk, we leave now.”  
The boy clutched the man’s sleeve. “Are the bad men gone?”  
Eli answered, his voice flat. “They won’t hurt anyone again.”  
The boy looked at the bodies outside and swallowed hard.  
Evelyn pushed the door fully open. “We need to move. More of them could be nearby.”  
As the prisoners stumbled out into the night, Claire lingered in the doorway, her gaze fixed on the chains still hanging from the wall.  
Sarah watched her carefully. “Regretting something?”  
Claire didn’t answer.  
Evelyn placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go.”  
Claire nodded, following the others into the dark.  
The slavers were dead. The prisoners were free.  
But something in Claire’s eyes said it wasn’t over yet.  
Not for her.
The night stretched endlessly as Evelyn led the group away from the cabin. The freed prisoners moved sluggishly, their bodies weak from captivity. Every step was slow, and every sound in the dark made them flinch.  
Eli scouted ahead, rifle ready. Sarah stayed near the rear, keeping an eye on the stragglers. Claire walked in silence, her head low, while Evelyn stayed close to the boy and the older man, making sure they didn’t fall behind.  
The boy, whose name they had learned was Leo, clung to the man’s hand. His eyes darted nervously to Claire. “She was with them,” he whispered, loud enough for Evelyn to hear.  
The older man, Thomas, gave Claire a long look before shaking his head. “Not anymore.”  
Claire didn’t react.  
The group stopped near a dry creek bed, deciding to rest for a moment. The air was thick with exhaustion.  
Eli crouched beside Evelyn. “We can’t keep moving like this. They’re too weak.”  
Sarah leaned against a rock, wiping sweat from her forehead. “If we stop, we risk running into more trouble.”  
Evelyn’s jaw tightened. “We need a safe place.”  
Claire finally spoke. “There’s an old farmhouse two miles west. The slavers never used it. Too out of the way.”  
Sarah crossed her arms. “And we’re just supposed to trust that?”  
Claire met her eyes, her voice steady. “It’s that, or we keep wandering until we drop.”  
Evelyn made the call. “We go west.”  
No one argued.  
The night pressed in as they moved, the weight of survival dragging them forward.
The farmhouse was barely standing. Its roof sagged, and vines curled around its wooden frame, but the walls held. It was enough.  
Evelyn pushed the door open, her flashlight cutting through the dust-filled air. Inside, broken furniture lay scattered, and the scent of mold clung to the walls. But it was shelter.  
Eli swept the corners with his rifle. “No movement.”  
Sarah tested the stairs. They creaked but held. “We can barricade the windows and rest here for the night.”  
Thomas guided Leo inside, lowering himself onto an old couch with a weary sigh. The other freed prisoners hesitated at the doorway, their eyes flickering to Claire.  
Claire didn’t look at them. She moved toward the fireplace, checking for anything useful.  
Evelyn glanced at Sarah. “We need water and supplies. We passed a shed on the way in.”  
Sarah nodded. “I’ll check it out.”  
“I’ll go with you,” Eli said, already heading for the door.  
As they left, Evelyn turned to Claire. “Can you start a fire?”  
Claire knelt by the fireplace, pulling out an old metal box filled with dry matches. “Yeah.”  
Thomas, watching her closely, finally spoke. “You knew this place was here. Did you ever bring people here before?”  
Claire struck a match. The flame flickered between her fingers. “No.”  
The fire caught, filling the room with warmth.  
Leo inched closer to Evelyn, his voice barely a whisper. “Are we safe here?”  
Evelyn placed a hand on his shoulder. “For now.”  
But she wasn’t sure how long that would last.