Within These Walls

Chapter 41

Marcus drives the truck like the world is breaking off behind us and we're seconds away from falling off its edge. It's a rough ride. He takes sharp corners that knock us around the cab of the truck and makes my aching head feel like it's splitting right down the middle. We've been on the road for five minutes now, and every mile, every yard, takes us farther away from the compound. But there's no outrunning the danger.

"Shit," Marcus mutters. "They're right on us. Who the hell is driving the other truck?"

I try to think straight, but my thoughts are playing on a loop. Alec shot Sam. Alec shot Sam. Alec. Killed. Sam.

"April!"

I squeeze my eyes shut. "Uh—the guy with the long dark hair. Your friend."

"Pablo?"

Sam's dead.

"Y-yes."

Marcus shifts gears. How does he even know how to drive? I can't imagine they took him and the other five out for driving lessons when they were staying at the research facility. But here he is, maneuvering this huge vehicle through the woods like he'd been doing it for years.

"He's not keeping up."

Shots fire behind us. I duck instinctively and almost bang my head on the dashboard when he swerves around another sharp bend. Branches give way under the force of the massive truck, and the crackle of snapping twigs and the roar of the engine is almost deafening. It's not enough to drown out the turbulence in my own head.

"Why did he do it?" Willow asks softly. "Why did he kill Sam?"

"Keep your shit together, Will," Marcus says. Any other time I would've called him out on his insensitivity, but I'm too far gone. "We don't have time for this."

She laughs, a thin sound that seems to tear out of her throat. She smacks her forehead. "What am I saying? I know why he did it. It's because of me. I lied to him for years. I used him because Sam asked me to."

"Sam has a talent for screwing with people," Marcus says, gentler this time.

"Had."

That lone word rips a fist-sized hole through my chest. The cab of the truck feels smaller than it already is, and the air is so thin I can barely catch enough of it.

Sam is dead. I'm discovering this all over again, and each time is as startling as the first. Sam has been there for most of my life. His existence overshadows the oblivious childhood I had before him. And after he came into my life . . . every moment with him was a pure hell of disdain and punishments. I should be happy to be free of him, but all I feel is raw hurt.

"Alec was always such a good shot," Willow continues in a choked voice. "He hardly ever missed the target at the shooting range. It made me feel good to watch him. I cheered him on. Encouraged him to keep practicing. If I hadn't done that . . ."

"Parker would still be alive?" Marcus finishes. "Maybe. But he wouldn't have lasted for much longer. Blaine had it in for him. Sam acted like he was in charge when he was just our prison warden. He had it coming."

"You think he deserved to die?"

"He sure as hell didn't deserve a medal." He jerks on the steering wheel and swerves around a corner, barely dodging a thick tree that stands out from the rest. "He abused us. If that's not bad enough, he went and messed with my head. He was nothing but a selfish bastard."

"Don't talk about him like that," Willow snaps. "He was the closest thing we had to a father."

"Speak for yourself."