All Chapters of The Burning: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The radio felt like a lead weight in my hands. My mind raced, piecing together the implications. Someone had been listening in on us—tracking our every conversation, our every move. For how long? I glanced up at Ben, who was staring at the radio with the same horrified realization. "Shit," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "How the hell did we miss this?" I didn't have an answer. I felt sick, a cold knot forming in my stomach as I thought about all the things we'd said, all the plans we'd made—thinking we were safe, thinking we were alone. But we weren't. Someone had been watching. Listening. Sarah came back into the room just then, her brow furrowed with concern as she noticed the tension in the air. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice low. I held up the radio. "We found this," I said, my voice tight. "Someone’s been spying on us." Sarah's eyes widened, her face going pale. "What? How— ?" "I don't know," I cut her off, my mind still reeling. "But we need t

The forest was a blur of shadows and branches whipping at my face as we ran. My lungs burned with every breath, and my legs screamed with exhaustion, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. Not with Marcus and his men right behind us. Not with the weight of betrayal pressing down on us like a lead blanket. Beside me, Ben moved like a ghost, his rifle clutched tightly in his hands, his face set in grim determination. Sarah was just ahead, her smaller frame darting between the trees with surprising agility. But I could see the panic in her eyes, the way her shoulders hunched every time we heard a branch snap behind us. The fear was starting to take hold, and I knew that if we didn’t find some way to lose Marcus soon, that fear would eat us alive. The forest was dense, our only salvation. It offered cover, a labyrinth of trees and undergrowth that could confuse even the most seasoned hunters. But we weren’t dealing with amateurs. Marcus was ruthless, smart, and driven by something mor

Pain radiated from my side with every step, a sharp, relentless reminder that I was slowing us down. Each breath was like a knife twisting in my ribs, and I could feel the warm, sticky trickle of blood beneath my jacket. Ben shot me worried glances every few minutes, his brow furrowed with concern, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. We both knew I wasn’t going to last much longer like this. The forest was dense, the trees towering above us like silent sentinels, their branches casting long shadows in the fading light of dusk. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and pine, the sounds of the night creeping in around us—crickets chirping, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant hoot of an owl. Normally, the forest would have felt like a sanctuary, a place where we could hide from the horrors of Eagle’s Nest and the dangers that lurked beyond. But tonight, it felt like a prison. Every step felt heavier than the last, and I could feel the weight of the

The moment we stepped into Dylan Matthews' camp, I knew something wasn't right. The air felt too still, too heavy, like the forest itself was holding its breath. There were no birds singing, no rustling of leaves, just the low murmur of conversations from the Nomads scattered around the campfire, their faces half-hidden in shadow. Dylan stood at the center of it all, tall and broad-shouldered, his grizzled beard flecked with gray, his eyes sharp and calculating. He looked like someone who had seen too much—someone who had survived this world long before it crumbled. His Nomads were a ragtag bunch, dressed in mismatched survival gear, their weapons hung casually at their sides. But there was nothing casual about the way they watched us. "Welcome," Dylan said, his voice low and smooth, like he was trying to put us at ease. It didn’t work. "You've picked a hell of a time to wander into our little corner of the world.." I exchanged a quick glance with Ben, my stomach twisting wit

The explosion shook the cabin walls so hard I thought they might come crashing down. Dust rained from the ceiling, filling the air with a thick, choking cloud. My heart lurched into my throat as the sound of gunfire erupted outside, sharp cracks cutting through the stillness of the night. The Scorchers were here, and they didn’t waste time with pleasantries. "Get down!!" Ben shouted, pulling me to the floor just as a window shattered, spraying glass across the room. I hit the ground hard, the impact jarring my ribs, sending a fresh wave of pain through my side. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, my vision swimming as I tried to pull myself together. But there was no time for pain, no time for weakness. We were under attack. Sarah was already scrambling for her gun, her face pale but determined as she crouched behind the overturned table. Ben had his rifle in hand, his eyes locked on the door, his body tense and ready for a fight. Marcus, of course, stood in the corner, calm as eve