Page 6 of Hammer

Chase grunted an affirmation, moving to the window to adjust the curtains so they overlapped perfectly, eliminating even the thinnest sliver of visibility from outside.“For now.”

I watched as he performed his nightly routine -- checking the bathroom, looking under the beds, testing the window locks, positioning our bags for grab-and-go access if needed.Every movement practiced, automatic, born from years of living on high alert.

“We’re meeting at the Coastal Coffee Shop on Palmetto Drive,” he said, finally sitting on the edge of the unoccupied bed.“I mapped three different routes.We’ll take a different one than we used coming in, just in case anyone’s watching the main road.”

Levi nodded without looking up from his screen.“I’ve been monitoring Dad’s credit cards and phone.No unusual activity yet.He’s still at The Rusted Chain, probably won’t leave until after closing.”

The Rusted Chain was Piston’s favorite bar, the unofficial headquarters of his motorcycle club’s local chapter.

“He’ll notice we’re gone in the morning,” Chase said, his voice flat.“When Mom’s not there to make his breakfast.”The bitterness in his tone made me flinch.I wanted to defend myself, to explain again why we hadn’t left sooner, but the yellowing bruise on Levi’s face made any excuse hollow.I should have gotten my boys out years ago, before Chase learned to gauge a man’s intoxication level from the sound of his footsteps, before Levi started keeping detailed records of abuse patterns and escape strategies.I’d been too scared.Still felt terrified.I knew if Piston caught us, we’d all be dead.

“We’ll be meeting with Scratch by then,” I said instead, trying to inject confidence into my voice.“He’ll help us disappear before Piston even realizes we’re gone.”

Chase’s eyes met mine, and I saw the doubt there, the hard-earned skepticism that prevented him from trusting anyone’s promises of safety.“Maybe,” was all he said.

He rose again, restless energy preventing him from staying still for long.From his duffel bag, he removed a hunting knife in a leather sheath -- a gift from his uncle before Piston had killed the man.He checked the blade before tucking it under his pillow, then positioned himself on the bed closest to the door.

“You should both try to sleep,” he said, though he made no move to lie down himself.“I’ll take first watch.”

“Chase, you need rest too,” I protested.

He shook his head.“I’ll wake Levi in four hours.We’ve done this before, Mom.”

“I can take a shift,” I offered, though we all knew I wouldn’t be much use as a guard.Maybe if I were stronger we wouldn’t be in this situation.

Chase’s expression softened slightly.“Get some sleep, Mom.Tomorrow’s going to be rough enough without you being exhausted too.”

As I prepared for bed, moving through my own abbreviated routine, I kept glancing at my oldest son.He sat with his back against the headboard, legs stretched out, looking for all the world like a typical teenager relaxing.But his eyes never stopped moving, his ears attuned to every sound outside our room, his body poised to react to any threat.

My son who had never been allowed to be a child.He’d grown up entirely too fast, and I felt wholly responsible, even though I knew his father shouldered a large chunk of the blame.

* * *

I lay in bed watching Chase through half-closed eyes, pretending to drift off while knowing sleep would evade me as it had most nights.The dim light from the bathroom -- left on at Chase’s insistence for safety -- cast shadows across his vigilant form.He sat against the headboard, one leg bent, the other extended, his posture deceptively casual to anyone who didn’t know better.But I knew.I recognized the alertness in his stillness, the way his head tilted slightly at each new sound from outside, the methodical pattern of his gaze as it swept the room every few minutes, checking on Levi and me before returning to the door.

Chase should have been worried about college applications, or a girlfriend, or whatever sport might have caught his interest if he’d been allowed to play one.Instead, my son had been molded into a sentinel by years of living with a predator.

The first time I’d seen this side of him -- this fierce, protective vigilance -- he’d been twelve.Piston had come home drunk and raging, dragging me from bed by my hair, shoving me against the wall hard enough to crack the plaster.And there, suddenly, was Chase, placing himself between us with a baseball bat clutched in white-knuckled hands.

“Leave her alone,” he’d said, his voice breaking but his stance unwavering.

Piston had laughed, but something in his son’s eyes -- something cold and determined and utterly unchildlike -- had given him pause.That night had changed everything between father and son.It had also changed Chase.He’d glimpsed his own power that night, discovered that his growing body could be a weapon, a shield.From that moment on, he’d dedicated himself to keeping our family safe.

I felt like the worst mother.It wasn’t the first time I’d felt that way.I’d failed my boys up to this point.But I refused to do so any longer.I would get them to safety, no matter what it cost me.

Chapter Three

Amelia

I stood next to Scratch outside the diner at the edge of town, watching him inspect our car with methodical precision.The chill of the morning air seeped through my thin jacket, but it wasn’t the cold making me shiver.Every second we remained in this town was another second Piston could find us, find my boys.I clutched my arms around myself, gaze darting to the trunk of the car, where Chase and Levi were retrieving our meager belongings, wondering if we were truly going to escape this time.

“Stand back,” Scratch muttered, lifting the hood of our beat-up sedan.His weathered hands moved with practiced efficiency, checking something I couldn’t understand.The leather of his cut creaked as he leaned forward, his shoulders blocking my view.

“Is something wrong with it?”I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.The parking lot was empty at this hour, but still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

Scratch straightened up and wiped his hands on a rag he pulled from his back pocket.“Car’s fine.That’s not the issue.”His eyes, hard as steel, scanned the horizon before returning to me.“We need to ditch it.”

My stomach dropped.“Ditch it?But that’s all we have --”

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