Chapter 1

Current Times, a lost place in Missouri, The United States.

Amaya

I move as fast as my legs can handle, ignoring the protests of my muscles as I see the hole in the fence surrounding the orphanage a few feet away from me.

The sound of barking dogs, running security guards, and the chaos I leave behind when I run away rings loud in my ears, a sound that accompanies my heartbeat.

The wounds on the soles of my feet bring tears to my eyes every time I step on a pebble in the dirt. But I ignore them, running even faster.

To stop now is to remain in hell for the rest of my life, and I would rather die.

The pleasant wind characteristic of the city whips against my face, and the cloudless blue sky above me is a sight worth beholding.

The sun is intense at this time of day, with the rays beating lightly against my face, warming my skin, and the feeling of being touched by the light running through my aching body.

A stark contrast to the damp, freezing place I had just come from.

If I were an ordinary girl in a normal situation, I would take the time to admire the beautiful day today.

I would look around, and the only thing going through my mind would be, "What a beautiful field," I would sit with my boyfriend and my dog, perhaps have a picnic, with the grass teasing my feet and the sound of our laughter soothing my ears.

I looked around, and all that went through my mind was, "What a beautiful field.

I would sit with my boyfriend and his dog, possibly have a picnic, with our laughter soothing my heart and the grass teasing my feet.

But this is an imaginary situation.

I don't have a boyfriend, and I don't have a dog. I can't remember the last time I smiled. I don't have time for it.

I put the fanciful thoughts aside and concentrate on the here and now, the most significant moment in all my eighteen years.

I move closer to the railing, hoping I will not keep up this pace for long when I leave the orphanage grounds.

I don't comprehend how much longer I can go on like this, and I don't have the most elaborate plan in the world.

At this very moment, the only thing keeping me up is the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I believe that causing panic and running through the cut in the grid I made is not exactly a mission worthy of the FBI.

I accelerated even faster, groaning a little at the pain in my feet.

The rocks and branches on the ground cut my skin several times, and I wanted to scream every time I felt contact with living flesh, but I kept running.

I have to do it, or I will be punished. And it will get even worse.

And if that happens, I will die. I know I will. I had already turned eighteen. My time is up.

I felt my eyes burning; I wanted to cry so badly.

I desperately wanted to stop running, curl up into a ball on the floor, and cry until I had no more tears to shed.

Until my face was red and swollen, and tiredness drove away the sadness,

But that would be useless and harmful, so I ignore that idea. It has been a long time since I discovered that crying can make you feel better, but it doesn't solve anything.

I opened the broken fence and crossed the small space with difficulty. The wire scratched the exposed parts of my arms and legs.

I felt the blood drain, but I didn't have time to stop and analyze. Not if I wanted to survive all this and get the hell out of this place.

I ignore the annoyance and start running again when I am on the other side.

The sound of the guards following me becomes more distant, as do the barking dogs and the cries of the orphans.

However, I do not slow down, considering that I am still on the orphanage property.

Until I left that place, I would not stop for anything other than my death.

I feel a dull tightness in my chest, but I refuse to look back.

The pain that I am leaving my sister at heart, my only friend, behind.

I am abandoning the one person who has always been there for me. The thought is like a dagger through my chest, but I don't stop.

I can't help her from the inside; I know that. Out here, I can find a police station or something.

I will find someone to help me get Cece out of that hell.

I have planned this escape since I was 14 years old, and I cannot stop now. I just can't.

I shake my head hard, forcing myself to pay attention only to my escape.

If I think about Cece now, I will give up on all of this and turn my back on my only chance to have a real life.

Our only chance and that can't happen.

I keep running, feeling the blood dripping down my arm and leg, probably caused by the branches and wire, not to mention the bruises on my foot.

I could no longer hear the sound of footsteps, but I knew they were close by.

Scanning, hunting, and waiting for a single mistake, ready to attack. I would not give them that option.

I knew what the procedure would be when everyone realized that I had escaped.

I was not the first to try to escape and succeed.

They would have search parties all over the property for at least a week. If they didn't find... Well, everyone who escaped came back, dead or alive.

That's why they never worried so much about strengthening security. But I can't think about that either.

I have to get out of this place as soon as possible.

I can't run for much longer. Honestly, everything becomes a blur around me, and all that is on my mind is to get out of there.

I don't even look at the landscape, evening after being locked up in the same old house for twelve years.

My feet are destroyed, and the scratches on my arms and legs hurt so much that I feel like screaming.

I find myself surrounded by nothing but bushes, and I have no idea where I am or where I am going, but I won't stop running.

At least only when I hear voices.

My body freezes completely, and I stare wide-eyed, silently observing the scene unfolding before me.

There were three men just a few feet away from me.

One was very tall; maybe I was exaggerating, but he must have been almost two meters tall.

He had blond hair like a handful of sand stuck in a bun. United, it must have been beating down on his chest.

I couldn't see the color of his eyes from where I was standing, but I knew from the smile on his face that they were amused.

Only a leather vest covered his bare tattooed torso, and black jeans hung low on his hips, exposing two lines forming a V on his lower abdomen.

Beside him, another man With hair so blond it was almost white, much shorter than his friend's, in a messy style like someone who just got out of bed and didn't bother to get ready.

He had his back to me, so I could not see his features, but he was shorter than the other man by a good ten centimeters, possibly more.

The jacket he was wearing said, "Nightfall Flames." There was a drawing of a skull on fire above the words drawn in cursive letters.

The third man was kneeling on the ground, wearing only black shorts.

His arms and legs were tied with rope, and a cloth over his mouth prevented him from speaking.

He was so dirty that I couldn't identify the color of his skin, and much of his chest was covered in blood.

The scene made me swallow hard, sending a shiver down my spine.

I wanted to get out of there, but stopping made me realize how sore my body was.

My biggest fear was taking a step and being discovered standing there.

At the same time, I knew that what I was about to witness would change everything.

"So, Sam... You're not going to tell us who told you about the attack on the Castillos?" The taller blond man asks, ducking behind the fallen man, grabbing his hair, and pulling his head back. "I'd like to know."

The injured man closes his eyes tightly, his breathing heavy.

The boy with blond and white hair was still standing in front of him without moving or showing any reaction.

"Unless you want me to let my friend play with you a little. I'll give you a spoiler: he doesn't stop until his prey is torn apart," his words made me swallow dryly.

My eyes widened even more.

If the blond man were to make a sudden movement with his head, he would see me standing there, watching.

But I couldn't make my legs move. The pain in my muscles was immense, and I knew that if I tried to look, I would find the skin of my feet raw. The feeling of the blood there told me more than I wanted to know.

The man tied to the floor begins to try to speak, but the cloth over his mouth stops him. The tall, blond man removes it, allowing him to speak.

The kneeling man begins to cough. However, this only seems to make the tall man more impatient.

"A traitor... you have a traitor!" The blond man's expression turns grim at the words escaping from Sam's lips.

Whatever that means, he doesn't take his gaze off the ground.

If he did, he would see me there. Not even that thought makes my legs move again.

"We received a piece of information before you attacked. A piece of information coming from inside the gang."

"Damn," he curses. "Who?" All amusement seems to have gone out of his voice, instantly replaced by anger.

The man shakes his head.

"I don't know! I've never heard any information! Please let me go."

I knew that wasn't going to happen. The taller one looked at the other boy and nodded.

The boy, who until then had not moved, seems to have understood the gesture as a sign.

Suddenly he takes a few steps forward and kneels beside the wounded man.

One of his hands goes to Sam's side, while the other goes to his neck.

In a too-quick movement for my tired eyes to follow, the white-haired man rips his throat open with his bare hand.

A laugh escaped his lips as blood gushed from his torn jugular.

I feel a stray drop of blood splash onto my cheek. My lips open, and my breathing ceases at the same instant.

I don't know if what scared me more was the violence of death or his laugh.

He laughed as if he were having a great time, like a child in a park full of toys.

But instead of roller coasters and cotton candy, her fun was killing that man.

The loud, uncontrolled laughter only ceased when the man died, with life draining from his eyes.

And that's when I found the strength to move.

Probably later than I should have because my body has chosen that moment to feel the fatigue of the last few hours, and my knees fail me.

I can barely stand, but the noise I make as I stumble announces my presence to the two men ahead.

I could see his eyes now. The tall blond had dark blue eyes, like the bottom of the ocean, with a slight amusement still in them.

He was looking at me as if he had just found out what his Christmas present was.

And the other one... The other one had eyes that were crazy.

Blue as ice, he was as clear as a ghost, and his eyes conveyed a deep madness to me.

Those eyes brought the purest fear into my system, which gave me the strength to run again.

But I can't do it anymore. My injured feet no longer have the strength to keep moving after doing it for so long.

In desperation, I trip over a branch and fall hard to the ground.

The men were too close, managing to reach me and grab my arms without any difficulty.

However, as soon as I feel his hands on me, I can no longer stay awake.

I don't know if it is my injuries, the fatigue, or the fear, but I am grateful when the familiar darkness catches up with me, dragging my mind out of reality.

My last thought before I lose consciousness is a question.

Have I just traded one hell for another?