Chapter 58: Mind Fractures

The memory didn’t surface until the plan was already in motion.

That was the cruel part.

Flashes came back to me in fragments—my hands dragging through my hair over and over, nails scraping my scalp raw. Boxes kicked aside hard enough to split cardboard. The sound echoing too loud in the cramped space. My chest tight, breath coming too fast, vision blurring at the edges like I was about to burst.

I’d been so frustrated I thought I might actually blow a blood vessel.

Hailey.

The name alone made my jaw lock.

There was nothing I had left to hold over her. Nothing. She owned me now— literally. Body, leverage, choices. All of it. If I’d played my cards smarter. If I’d slowed down. If I hadn’t underestimated her—…

I dropped onto a crate, the wood creaking beneath my weight. I brought my knuckle down against my forehead, again and again, like I could knock sense into myself if I hit hard enough.

Stupid.

Useless.

“If you don’t help me fight the Crucible, Cherie dies.”

Hailey’s voice slid back into my head with perfect clarity. Calm. Amused.

“Seems fair, doesn’t it?”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Yeah. Right.

I’d gotten out of worse situations. I’d talked my way through a lot of stuff, traps, camps that should’ve buried me. But this—

This was different.

This wasn’t just a few people dying if I fucked up.

This was everyone.

Aubrey. Terri. Hale. The others. Every single one of them.

Illinois flashed through my mind. The helplessness. The waiting. That same sick, trapped feeling curling in my gut.

I wasn’t moving forward.

I was cornered.

I felt someone in front of me before I saw them. A shift in the air. A presence.

I looked up.

Aubrey stood there, arms loose at her sides, confusion etched into her face. Not judgment. Not anger. Just trying to read me.

“What the hell did she even say to you…?”

My throat felt tight. Dry.

“That if we don’t help her fight the Crucible,” I said quietly, “she’s gonna kill Cherie.”

The words barely made it out.

I didn’t look at her, but I felt the change immediately. The way her posture stiffened. The narrowing of her gaze.

She exhaled sharply through her nose.

“Well,” she said after a beat, “under normal circumstances, I’d say we ditch this place and leave when they least expect it.”

I stayed staring at my hands.

Silence stretched.

“But,” she added, softer, “I know you’re not gonna do some shit like that.”

I swallowed.

She moved closer. I felt her crouch in front of me, bringing herself down to my level. I finally looked up, caught off guard.

She scratched at her eyebrow, thinking.

“Hey… uh. Look.”

She hesitated. That alone made my chest tighten.

“You may be naive as hell when it comes to… certain things.”

I frowned.

“But that doesn’t make you stupid,” she continued. “You’re just frustrated. And I know you— you always come up with something. You always do.”

Her hands rested on my lap.

Tentative.

Then they gripped the fabric of my jeans, grounding, firm.

“So snap out of it,” she whispered. “Yeah?”

Low. Close. Intimate in a way that caught me completely off guard.

My eyes widened.

She froze.

Her face flushed instantly as she yanked her hands back and stood up too fast, brushing at her jeans like she needed distance from the moment.

“You—…you didn’t just—”

“Shut the fuck up,” she snapped, mortified.

“I just thought you needed motivation, okay? Just—” she gestured vaguely, “tell me when you’re ready to make something work instead of sitting on your ass.”

Silence fell again.

Then—

Something clicked.

Not loud. Not dramatic.

Just sharp.

Clean.

The fog lifted.

The pressure aligned.

I looked up, the glint back in my eyes before I even realized it.

“Where are the others?” I asked immediately.

Aubrey blinked, then frowned, folding her arms.

“A few tents over.”

I stood.

And the plan finally began.

Around the small campfire, morale lay in pieces.

The flames burned low, struggling against the dark, their light barely enough to chase the shadows clinging to the tents. No one spoke. No one laughed. Bodies sat hunched inward, staring into the fire like it might give them answers it didn’t have.

Aubrey and I emerged from the darkness.

Barely anyone looked up.

Before I could even draw a breath, arms slammed into my chest.

Lila.

She wrapped herself around me so tightly I stumbled back a step, caught off guard by the force of it. Her grip wasn’t playful—it was desperate, like I was the last solid thing in a world that had already started collapsing.

In my periphery, I caught Aubrey’s reaction instantly.

Disdain.

Sharp. Unhidden.

She shuffled back half a step, jaw tight, eyes hard.

“My love—!” Lila gasped, voice breaking as she pressed her face into my chest. “Where’ve you been??”

She clung to me like she might disappear if she let go.

I couldn’t even tell if this was normal for her anymore— or if everything had finally cracked.

Slowly, uncertainly, I rested a hand against her hair. Not pulling her closer. Not pushing her away.

Just… there.

I didn’t answer her.

“Is this everyone…?” I asked instead.

My voice carried farther than I expected.

A few heads lifted. Not many.

That made my chest tighten.

Before I could say anything else, a figure stepped into the firelight from the dark.

Wrinkles cut deep into his face. A flannel shirt hung loose on his frame. The fire illuminated him just enough.

Angelo.

“Where the hell have you been?” Aubrey snapped.

His face froze.

“I— I was just takin’ a leak,” he stammered. “Then one of the soldiers stopped me—wanted to talk…”

My gaze dropped.

Something matte black caught the firelight beneath his shirt, tucked into his waistband.

A tool.

A weapon.

Angelo noticed my stare and shifted subtly, trying to hide it like I hadn’t already seen.

Too late.

My thoughts raced— and then something clicked.

A smirk tugged at my lips before I could stop it.

I gently gestured for Lila to let go.

She hesitated… then did.

“Everyone needs to pay attention to what I’m about to say,” I said.

Silence followed.

Slowly, eyes lifted.

Terri’s face was hollow, despair carved into her expression. Peter looked like he’d already lost faith— like he was just waiting for confirmation. Jane sat still, pale, distant. Isabella stayed far from the fire, shadows swallowing half her face. Hale remained upright and unreadable— but I could see it in the set of his shoulders.

Something was wrong.

“It’s been a minute since we’ve all been on the road together…” I began.

I didn’t even know where I was going with it yet.

Angelo frowned.

“…Didn’t think of what you were gonna say, did you?”

I shot him a glare.

“Can it,” Aubrey snapped. “Will you?”

He shut up.

I closed my eyes briefly, forcing my thoughts into order.

“And in that short time,” I said, “I realized something.”

A beat.

“Most of you are resilient enough to keep pushing. To stay alive. Even now.”

No one spoke.

“At the… uh—police station—” I faltered.

The silence sharpened.

“I made a decision,” I continued. “One I probably shouldn’t have.”

That did it.

Terri’s eyes widened. Aubrey’s snapped to me. Hale stiffened. Lila stared at me through the firelight, eyes gleaming—hopeful, terrified.

I met her gaze for a second.

Then looked away.

“I decided to put my trust in only a few of you instead of all of you,” I said. “And now I realize—that’s not how we survive as a group.”

I inhaled slowly.

“Some of you followed me all the way from the camp in Illinois.”

Angelo’s eyes sharpened. Peter finally focused. Jane barely reacted. Isabella didn’t move at all.

“And for me not to return that trust?” I said. “That’s not right.”

I felt my chest tighten—but I pushed through it.

“The truth is, none of us have a choice but to trust each other now,” I said. “Especially with what we’re facing.”

The fire cracked.

“That’s why I need all hands on deck for what’s coming,” I finished. “You all saw what they did to Cherie.”

My voice hardened.

“We’re taking this camp from the inside.”

The firelight flickered across their faces.

And this time—

They were listening.

The fire crackled louder than it had a moment ago.

“I don’t know,” Angelo said, shaking his head. “Sounds like you’re just sayin’ all that now because you’re in a pickle.”

The words landed heavier than I expected.

I frowned, letting the silence sit instead of rushing to fill it.

“If you really think that,” I said evenly, “then no one’s stopping you from working with Hailey from now on.”

For a split second, the world seemed to freeze.

Angelo’s expression snapped—his jaw tightening, face twisting like I’d struck something raw. Around the fire, eyes widened. A few people shifted uncomfortably.

There was no point hiding it anymore.

The matte black grip at his waistband caught the firelight as he turned, fully visible now. A gun. Out in the open. A statement.

He scoffed, sharp and bitter.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered.

Then he turned his back on all of us and stormed off into the darkness, boots crunching against dirt until the sound faded.

Silence swallowed the camp.

The fire popped. Someone shifted. No one spoke.

“…Isn’t that a little risky to do?” Aubrey murmured at my side. Her voice was low, controlled. “He’s probably gonna squeal about what we’re planning now.”

I didn’t take my eyes off the flames.

“I’m almost certain,” I said.

She glanced at me, waiting.

“But he won’t do it immediately.”

The firelight reflected in my eyes as I watched it dance, thinking three steps ahead.

“He’s the type to sit with it first,” I continued. “Convince himself he’s not a traitor. Feel guilty. Argue with himself until the timing feels ’right.’”

A beat.

Then I turned to Aubrey.

“That means we have time.”

Her jaw tightened.

“And if we’re gonna act,” I said quietly, resolve settling into place, “we do it tonight.”

The fire cracked again.

And this time, it sounded like a countdown.

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