Chapter 91 Survival
Elsie
When I woke up, I was completely disoriented for a moment.
It felt like I didn’t know who I was. My head ached like a dozen nails were being driven straight into it, slow and deliberate, and my mouth was so dry my tongue felt swollen. My eyes were sticky when I tried to open them. I had to blink a few times before they cooperated, pushing myself up slowly because moving too fast sent pain shooting through my body.
That was when it hit me.
I didn’t know where I was.
The sheets under my hands weren’t mine. They were smooth and soft, the kind of fabric you notice immediately because you’ve never owned anything like it. Way thicker than what I slept on back in the little house my mother and I shared. The mattress dipped under my weight, spongy, expensive, and when I turned my head and pressed my palm into the pillow, my fingers sank straight in.
Down.
Actual down.
I let out a small, broken laugh that hurt my ribs. Who the hell wakes up after being carved open and lands on a cloud?
My body reminded me why laughing was a bad idea. Pain flared along my arms, my side, my thigh. I looked down and saw bandages wrapped tight around me, clean and white, already spotted in places where blood had pushed through.
Someone moved beside the bed. I forced my eyes all the way open, rubbing the sleep from them as my heart sped up in my chest
A woman stood there, older, wearing plain clothes, holding a bowl of water and a cloth. She didn’t look surprised to see me awake. Just nodded once, like she’d been expecting it.
“Easy,” she said. “Don’t sit up too much.”
My throat burned when I spoke. “Where am I?”
She wrung out the cloth slowly. “Very far from the city.”
That answer made my stomach drop.
I lay back, staring around the room properly now. Cream-colored walls. A small wooden dresser. A chair pushed neatly under it. Heavy curtains drawn tight over the windows. No TV. No photos. No personal touch. It didn’t feel like a home at all.
Memory came back in pieces I didn’t ask for.
The knife glinted under the light.
The smell of blood.
The way I counted the cuts was the only thing I could control.
I swallowed hard.
“And the woman?” I asked. “The one who saved me.”
The servant paused. “She will see you soon.”
That was when the door opened.
Mrs. Lancaster walked in like she owned the room, the house, the land under it. She took one look at my face and nodded.
“Good,” she said. “You’re awake.”
She motioned for the servant to leave. The woman didn’t hesitate. She packed up her things and disappeared without a word, closing the door behind her.
Silence settled in the room, thick and heavy.
“Why am I here?” I asked.
Mrs. Lancaster pulled a chair closer and sat. “Because you talked too much.”
The words landed harder than a slap.
“You told Caleb where to find me.” she continued. “And once he knew, I knew. Staying there would have gotten me back in that hell they locked me up in before. I need to re-strategize and return.”
My chest tightened. I didn’t even bother asking how she found out I told him, “I trusted him.”
“I warned you not to.”
I looked away, blinking fast. I remembered her voice on that landline telling me that trusting a Lancaster never ended well. And I had still chosen Caleb. I had even given him her location, thinking I was doing the right thing.
How stupid could one person be?
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Utah.”
That made me sit up despite the pain. “Utah? Why are we in another state?”
She studied me for a moment, then said, “Because you’re safer where they aren’t looking. There are no Lancaster syndicates here.”
Something about the way she said it made my skin crawl.
I took a shaky breath. “Why did they listen to you?”
She arched a brow. “Listen to me?”
“In that place,” I said. “The Diego man, when you told him to stop. Even Caleb couldn’t do that.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Power isn’t always loud, Elsie. Some people don’t need to shout to be obeyed.”
That answer scared me more than if she’d bragged.
I shifted in the bed, pain blooming again, but I ignored it. “Why help me?”
She didn’t answer immediately. She stood, walked to the small table, and started packing the medical supplies neatly into a case, as if this were routine.
“Because if you stay like this,” she said, “you will die. Or worse.”
I laughed, bitter and sharp. “Worse already happened.”
She turned to look at me then. Really look. “No. Worse is surviving and staying powerless.”
My hands clenched in the sheets.
“I don’t want to be weak anymore,” I said quietly. “I don’t want to be dragged. I don’t want to beg. I don’t want to trust the wrong people and pay for it with my skin.”
Her gaze didn’t soften. If anything, it hardened.
“Then you need to go back to school,” she said.
I frowned. “School?”
“Yes. Education gives you options. Money gives you reach. Knowledge gives you protection. Revenge without preparation is suicide.”
The word revenge sat between us like an open wound.
“I can give you what you need,” she continued. “Tutors. Resources. Time. But you have to decide what you want to become.”
I swallowed. “Why me?”
She walked back to the chair and sat again, closer this time. “Because I see a daughter in you. And because the people who hurt you think you’re already broken.”
Her voice dropped. “I’d like to prove them wrong.” When she stood to leave, she paused at the door. “Rest,” she said. “We start planning when you can stand without shaking.”
After she left, I stared at the ceiling for a long time.
I thought about Caleb.
About trust.
About my blood soaking into the floor.
And I made myself a promise.
If I survived this, I wouldn’t just come back stronger.
I would take everything from the Lancasters.
Everything.