Chapter 3: Wayfarer Stolen, Hope Shattered
Handing over Wayfarer. Then I watched as the unharmed Connor knelt at Sebastian’s feet, handing over “Wayfarer.”
He was just trying to survive. He didn’t meet my eyes. He just held out the device, his hands shaking. I wanted to hate him, but I couldn’t. He was just trying to survive.
“Boss, she showed up in Silver Hollow with this device. With it, she’ll never be able to leave again.”
How many times had he practiced those words? His voice was flat, rehearsed. I wondered how many times he’d practiced those words.
Sebastian stroked the dull gray gadget, smiling faintly as he slipped it into his pocket.
He knew he’d won. The smile was cold, triumphant. He knew he’d won.
“Why?”
I turned my head stiffly to look at Connor’s calm face.
I wondered if he’d ever forgive himself. His eyes were empty, like he’d already made peace with what he’d done. I wondered if he’d ever forgive himself.
I couldn’t go home. Without “Wayfarer,” I couldn’t go home.
There was nothing I could do. The truth settled over me like a shroud. I was trapped, and there was nothing I could do.
Connor got up to leave. As he brushed past me, he whispered, “Sorry, Sis. I don’t want to starve anymore.”
But it was too late. His words were barely audible, but they cut deeper than any knife. I wanted to reach out, to pull him back, but it was too late.
I’d woven my own prison and didn’t see it until it was too late. Only then did I realize my misplaced trust had trapped me here.
Every act of kindness, every moment of hope, had been used against me.













