Hailee's POV
We didn't know where they were taking us. The truck rattled and groaned with every bump in the road, the stench of oil and rust suffocating the air. Chains clanged against the metal floor, penning us in like caged animals. My heart hammered with every lurch, but all I could do was cling to my boys. Oscar and Ozzy pressed close, their small bodies stiff. I could feel their courage even through their fear—the way they sat upright, jaws tight like little soldiers. They weren't crying like the others. They weren't begging or whimpering. They stayed silent, watching, listening, their small hands gripping my dress like anchors.
Pride and sorrow tangled in my chest. They shouldn't have to be this strong. They should be home, laughing, chasing each other in the yard—not trapped here, treated like goods to be traded. My fingers threaded through Oscar's fiery hair, my lips brushing the crown of his head. "Stay strong, baby. Just a little longer."
