Counterfeit ✓

Chapter 4

As the night stretched on with the eerie serenade of wolves in the distance, the group dismantled their tent, their breath visible in the chilly air. Stephen lingered in the sheltering embrace of a nearby tree, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Beside him, Mila fidgeted, her eyes darting around, searching for an excuse to slip away. Her thoughts were a whirlwind, the image of the boy resembling Stephen occupying her mind, but she dared not inquire about it, fearing his potential response.

"Oliver's gonna make us pay for what we did to Amy," Elody sneered. Mila couldn't forget hearing her name in hushed conversations the night before.

"We've got more power, we're superior," Stephen said.

A lump formed in Mila's throat as she gulped, her gaze fixed on Stephen as they navigated the dense forest. Meanwhile, Elody's voice dropped to a conspiratorial hush, ensuring she couldn't decipher their conversation. Memories of Amy's capture surged, compelling Mila to acknowledge that she needed to rescue her before making her escape. Amy had been her savior, and leaving her behind was out of the question. Plus, Mila recognized Amy held crucial insights into the intricate dynamics between Oliver and Stephen.

Following an hour-long trek through the thick forest, they reached the camp, the creaking gate granting them passage. Stephen entered last, sealing it behind him. Just as Mila contemplated creating some space between them, he pivoted to face her.

"It's a simple choice: adapt or quit."

Mila's spine tingled as she absorbed the undertone in his words. The idea of surrendering gnawed at her, casting a shadow of brutal consequences, possibly even death, which she dreaded. In a peculiar twist, Stephen seemed to wield a more ominous presence than the guards themselves.

"I'll make it work."

"Jean's your guide."

"Speaking of which, where's Amy?"

His gaze sharpened as he stared at her. "That's not information you need to concern yourself with. Our camp has its own set of rules. Adapt or throw in the towel."

He strode off, leaving Mila in Jean's company. Jean's mop of reddish-blonde hair seemed to defy gravity, and Mila's grip tightened, her nails digging into her palm. She understood the need to gauge Jean's trustworthiness before unloading her barrage of questions.

"Every one of us has a role here, and for you, it's the kitchen."

Mila nodded in agreement.

Jean leaned closer. "You've got to rebuild your reputation. Your escape attempt didn't help."

Mila couldn't help but comment, "Stephen doesn't exactly radiate warmth, does he?"

"Stephen's the reason we're still standing," Jean replied with conviction. "He's a strong leader."

"And what can you tell me about Oliver?"

Mila recognized that asking about Oliver right away was a bold move, one that carried its own set of risks. However, she found herself impatient, unwilling to wait to build trust with Jean. As her question hung in the air, Jean's body language spoke volumes. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and his eyes darted around.

"Oliver's name is taboo here. Don't even mention it."

"Are they related, at least?"

Elody interjected with a firm tone. "We're not discussing him. Pay attention to the guide."

Mila mentally cursed Elody for intervening in their conversation. She couldn't help but sense that Jean folded under pressure easily, and she believed that by asking the right questions, she could uncover more about Stephen. Mila wasn't oblivious, and she recognized the way they held Stephen in high regard. She leveraged this idolization to her advantage.