Chapter 54: Ego driven

“You’re saying she helped you???”

Aubrey’s voice came out sharper than she probably meant it to, disbelief bleeding through every word. She stood half-turned toward Terri, eyes wide, one hand still clutching the strap of her pack like she needed something solid to hold onto.

Terri nodded quickly.

“Yes— I think. I don’t know,” she whispered, lowering her voice instinctively. “It was so strange. I didn’t even know what to say— she just… stepped in.”

Her fingers worried at the hem of her sleeve as she spoke, twisting fabric between them. The memory still sat wrong in her chest. Cherie’s voice. Calm. Certain. The way the man had backed off like something real had suddenly entered the room.

Around them, the camp felt… off.

Not loud. Not chaotic.

Tight.

People clustered in small knots, murmuring just under the threshold of clarity. Heads leaned together. Conversations died the second someone else passed too close. Weapons were being checked more often than usual. Packs shifted. Eyes scanned.

Hale stood near one of the fire pits, jaw locked, arms crossed so tight it looked painful. Peter paced near the tents, boots crunching the dirt in short, irritated strides. No one laughed. No one lingered.

Something was happening.

And whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

Terri glanced around once more before looking back at Aubrey.

“It sounds ridiculous,” she said quietly, almost embarrassed by the words even as she spoke them. “But maybe… maybe we were wrong about her.”

Aubrey’s expression didn’t soften.

She folded her arms slowly, the movement deliberate.

“I know she was part of the reason we got set up back in Chicago,” Terri continued, rushing now, like if she didn’t get it all out it would choke her. “But it seems like she’s— you know—”

“A changed woman?”

Aubrey cut in flatly.

Terri went quiet.

She hesitated, then gave a small nod.

Aubrey looked away, pressing her thumb against the corner of her eye, dragging it down slowly like she was scrubbing something out. When she looked back, there was no anger on her face.

Just disappointment.

“You have a good heart, Terri,” she said.

Terri straightened slightly at that. Hope flickered.

Then Aubrey finished—

“But you’re so unbelievably naive.”

The words hit harder than a shout ever could.

Terri’s breath caught. Her mouth opened, then closed. No argument came. No defense. Just a hollow ache spreading through her chest as Aubrey stepped past her.

She didn’t look back.

Terri stood there, surrounded by a camp that felt like it was holding its breath, the echo of those words sinking deeper with every second.

Naive.

Her gaze drifted back toward where Cherie had disappeared earlier.

And for the first time since that encounter—

Terri wasn’t sure whether she’d been protected…

Or marked.

I thought I was used to sitting across from her by now.

The table between us was scarred with knife marks and old burns, wood darkened by years of bad decisions and worse people. The lantern hanging above swayed slightly, its light carving shadows across Hailey’s face that never seemed accidental.

“I thought we had an agreement, Adrian.”

The words slid into me like a blade finding an old wound.

This had to be the hundredth time I’d sat here—same chair, same angle, same quiet threat wrapped in politeness. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, hands clasped like that might hold the situation together.

“We did—” I stopped myself, swallowed. “We do. Just… overlook this one thing, Hailey. Please.”

For a second, she only studied me.

Then a smirk curled slowly at her lips.

Not warm.

Not amused.

Satisfied.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

My knuckles tightened until my fingers ached.

“I did your people a favor,” she continued calmly. “I let them into my camp. Gave them protection. Food. Safety.” Her head tilted.

“And I’m repaid with what— threats?”

My pulse spiked.

She leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other like we were discussing trade routes instead of someone’s fate.

“That woman,” Hailey went on softly, “had the audacity to threaten one of my people. And the way she described it…” She clicked her tongue. “So vivid. So gruesome.”

My stomach twisted.

“Samuel told me everything.” Her eyes flicked to the side.

“Didn’t you, Sammy?”

I followed her gaze.

He stood beside her like a loyal mutt— shoulders tense, eyes darting, grease-slick hair combed back too tightly. The leather jacket clung to him, worn and sour-looking, like it had absorbed years of sweat and bad intent.

One of those.

Samuel nodded once. Quick. Sharp. Like he was afraid not to.

I looked back to Hailey.

“Please,” I said, my voice lower now. “If there’s anything I can do to make this right— anything— I’ll do it.”

Her grin widened.

“That’s flattering, Adrian,” she cooed. “It really is. It’s nice to see how much you value what we have going.”

The pause that followed was deliberate.

Measured.

“But…”

My mind raced.

But what?

“I will have to make an example out of that woman.”

The world seemed to stall.

“You understand that, don’t you?” she continued.

“I can’t have people thinking they can say whatever they want in my camp. That reflects poorly on me.”

I went completely still.

“A severed finger,” she added thoughtfully. “Maybe two. At most.” Her lips curved.

“It’ll be quick for her. I promise.”

Blood rushed from my face.

I stared at her— really stared this time— and saw it clearly. The way her eyes shone just a little brighter. The way she leaned forward, elbows resting casually on the table.

She was enjoying this.

Enjoying watching me squirm.

This wasn’t discipline.

It was punishment.

She was getting back at me.

She has to be bluffing, I told myself. She has to be.

“Hailey, please, we—” My voice cracked despite myself.

“Ah. Ah. Ah.”

She cut me off with a soft coo, wagging a finger like I was a misbehaving child.

My jaw tightened.

“The decision’s final,” she said lightly. “I’m afraid.”

Everything around me dulled after that.

The lantern.

The room.

The smell of smoke and metal.

I barely registered the silence until her voice slipped back in.

“Though,” she said slowly, lifting her drink, “I am curious about something.”

I flinched.

She took a leisurely sip.

“Those friends she mentioned,” Hailey continued. “When she was making her little threat. Who exactly are they?”

My confusion must’ve shown.

“Do you know them?”

The words settled late.

Too late.

My stomach dropped.

She couldn’t be talking about—

From my expression alone, her smile sharpened.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“…What?” I muttered.

“Wonderful,” she said. She set her glass down with a soft clink. “You’re going to introduce me to them.”

That snapped me fully back into my body.

I stared at her.

Introduce who to what?

“Why the long face?” she asked pleasantly. “I’m just curious. They sound so…” Her eyes gleamed. “Vile. Vicious.”

She smiled.

“I like that.”

“You’re joking,” I said quietly.

“I’m not.”

Her expression went cold.

“Threats like that aren’t something I take lightly,” Hailey said. “Loose cannons get snuffed out before they can blow. That’s how order is maintained.”

My thoughts spiraled.

This wasn’t about Samuel.

Or Cherie.

Or even the camp.

She wanted conflict.

She thrived on it.

Every deal, every alliance— just another stage for her ego. Another chance to prove she was the one holding the leash.

Hailey wouldn’t believe me if I told her she was playing in a completely different ball park.

Or…maybe I was just more afraid of the Crucible than I realized.

More doors had opened than I’d realized.

More dangers than I could close.

And all of our lives were about to pay for it.

She stood, smoothing her coat as if concluding a business meeting.

“You’ll understand someday, Adrian,” Hailey said calmly.

She paused at the doorway, looking back at me.

“No one,” she smiled, “is bigger than Hailey Finkleworth.”

The lantern swayed.

And for the first time since we’d entered her camp—

I knew we were already trapped.

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