Chapter 3: The Long Road Home

Five years later.

Jasmine gripped the steering wheel tighter after passing the border, her eyes flicking to the mirrors to check if anyone was following. She rented a secondhand RV whose engine coughed every so often like it knew it was being used for something it shouldn't. It was a good vehicle—old, anonymous, American. The kind you never look at twice. She liked that about it.

Six kids were sprawled in the back, tangled in blankets and each other's limbs. Most of them were asleep. Sol clutched a pocketknife in his small fist, his breathing steady. Taylor had one boot still on. Skyler curled around his duffel like someone might take it. Cameron sat upright, eyes scanning the horizon, pretending not to be scared. Raine and Robin shared a corner—sisters in everything but blood, still too guarded to fall completely into rest.

They were safe. For now.

Crossing into the United States hadn't been easy. It never was. But Jasmine had years of experience slipping through shadows. She'd burned through a few favors, pulled old strings from contacts who probably thought she was dead. A long-forgotten cartel smuggler owed her a life. That had gotten them through Central America. A border agent with a gambling habit had been convinced to look the other way.

Out of everything, the IDs had worked the best—because Red had provided them. Jasmine had all the papers they might need, just in case someone asked questions. She loved being prepared. It made the story easier for the kids to remember.

And the story wasn't too far from the truth: a single mother adopting children around the world. Strange, yes, but not unbelievable. All of her children had been unfortunately unwanted—just like her.

Now, the worst of it was behind them. Or at least, that's what she wanted to believe.

America stretched wide and wild in front of them—road signs in English, billboards with grinning white faces selling cheap insurance, and gas stations with sticky floors and smiling cashiers who didn't ask questions. It was… clean. Too clean. Jasmine had learned to trust grime. It meant people were distracted.

The farther they drove, the more the tension began to lift. Cities gave way to empty fields. Strip malls turned into forests. The air smelled different. Wide. Free.

She cracked the window. The wind rolled in, and for the first time in months, she let herself breathe.

Robin stirred first, sitting up and peering through the glass. "Where are we now?"

"Middle of nowhere," Jasmine answered.

Robin smirked. "Looks better than most somewheres."

Jasmine gave a tired nod. "It's quiet. That's the point."

They were heading west—Wyoming, to be exact. Jasmine had bought land there through an LLC in another name, miles outside a town most people hadn't heard of. Falkirk. It sounded like a name from a storybook. Far enough from government eyes, close enough to vanish in the folds of forgotten America.

Raine mumbled something in her sleep and rolled over. Cameron glanced back at her, then looked at Jasmine.

"Are we really going to stay there? For good?"

Jasmine didn't answer right away. She kept her eyes on the road. Miles of highway stretched forever.

"We'll see," she finally said.

Truth was, she didn't know what "for good" meant anymore. All she knew was that these kids were hers. Not by blood. Not by law. But by something deeper. Something earned. One by one, she'd found them in the wreckage of the world—each one broken in a different way, each one too proud to say it.

And somehow, they'd become a family.

She glanced in the mirror, watching their reflections. The RV buzzed quietly, tires humming against the road. The sun dipped lower behind them, casting long shadows over the dashboard.

Sol woke last, eyes blinking against the soft light. He didn't say anything—just reached for his pack and opened a tattered comic book.

Jasmine smiled softly.

It would never be easy. But as long as they had each other, nothing could stop them. And Jasmine would make sure of it.

The plains rolled on, gold and green under a sky so wide it made her chest ache. She hadn't expected to fall in love with this place. But there was something sacred about how empty it was. As if the land itself was daring her to start over.

No assassins. No shadows. No missions.

Just a broken woman, six kids, and a farm waiting on the horizon.

She drove into the dusk, headlights flicking on as the last of the sun slipped behind the hills.