A Fate So Cruel

Chapter 5 - Safe House

The information made a deep pit form in my stomach but there wasn't long to dwell on it before the car slowed to a stop.

"We're here," Isaac said as the car was put in park. A moment later one of the doors opened and closed firmly.

I pushed the sheet off and sat up. My eyes struggled to adjust to the dull light of an impending bright day.

The first thing I noticed was that we were surrounded by trees. The next was the large brick building in front of the car. The structure looked out of place in the forest, almost as though it had been picked out of a city and plopped into the forest.

Boston smiled hesitantly at me from the passenger seat, his eyes watching me with mild apprehension.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Silverlake Territory. Just over the border, actually."

My brows lifted. "Silverlake?"

We'd traveled farther than I'd thought.

Boston hummed. A mischievous smile graces his lips. "I've been telling you for years that crossing Territory borders can be easy. If you know how to do it."

"Hmmmm. I was hoping that I'd have to continue to rely on your word for that."

He smiled and shook his head. "Come on, let's get you inside. It's still not safe out here."

Once we exited the car, I was able to get a better look at the structure ahead. It looked like it had a warehouse at one time, although judging from the kudzu growing up the side and at least one broken window, that had been years ago. In fact, it looked downright abandoned.

I glanced around, trying to find where Isaac had gone but he disappeared.

When we'd nearly reached the building, the door swung open. I expected to see Isaac's scowling face but instead found a woman's.

She was tan and although she had a petite frame, it was clear from her toned arms that she was strong despite her size.

The woman lifted her chin in a silent greeting.

Boston slowed to a stop and I followed suit. Unconsciously I moved closer to Boston who placed a comforting hand on the small of my back as he gently nudged me forward alongside him. "This is Jacklyn."

"Jac," She corrected sharply with a glare at Boston. Then her eyes narrowed as she took me in, studying me. "Well, aren't you just a pretty little thing?"

There was an edge to the way that she spoke and looked at me that–although not necessarily malicious–had me shifting closer to Boston's side.

Seemingly already losing interest in me, Jac stepped out of the way and ushered us inside. "Well, hurry up and get in. Nothing good can come from either of you hanging around outside."

With shaky knees and an uneasy stomach, I held tightly onto Boston's arm as I followed him inside.

I'm not sure what I expected from a Resistance safe house, but the large room somehow simultaneously met and diverted expectations.

It was a large, sparsely furnished room with exposed brick walls and wooden beams that smelled faintly of mildew. Some shaky-looking scaffolding led to an open-air hallway lined with several doors. In the middle of the room on the cracked cement floor were a threadbare couch and an old leather armchair, as well as some wooden boxes fashioned into a makeshift coffee table. In one of the nooks in the corner, was a modest kitchenette with a sink, small stovetop, rusted white fridge, and shoddily constructed kitchen island with a pair of old wood barstools.